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'The  Light 
That  Shines  In  Darkness 

A  Drama 

BY 

LEO  TOLSTOY 

In'        Author  of  "Anna  Karenina,'*  " Risurrection"  etc. 

Edited  by  Dr.  Hagberg  Wright 


NEW  YORK 

DODD,  MEAD  AND  COMPANY 

1912 


PRESERVATION 
COPY  ADDED 
ORIGINAL  TO  BE 
RETAINED 


im  2  9 1> 


COFYRIGHr,    IQia, 

Bt  DODD,  mead  &  COMPANY 


PREFACE 

TOLSTOY  AS  DRAMATIST 

In  almost  every  kind  of  literary  work  he  touched, 
Tolstoy  succeeded  at  once  In  reaching  the  fore- 
most rank. 

When  he  sent  his  first  story,  Childhood,  anony- 
mously to  the  poet  Nekrasov,  editor  of  The  Cott' 
temporary  (then  the  leading  Petersburg  maga- 
zine), the  latter  promptly  accepted  and  published 
it;  Dostoyevsky  was  so  struck  by  It  that  he  wrote 
from  Siberia  to  inquire  who  its  talented  author 
was;  Turgenev  sang  Its  praises,  and  Panaev  was 
so  delighted  with  It  that  his  friends.  It  was  said, 
had  to  avoid  him  on  the  Nevsky  lest  he  should  In- 
sist on  reading  them  extracts  from  It. 

When  Tolstoy  turned  from  stories  to  novels  he 
achieved  the  same  immediate  and  complete  suc- 
cess. The  appearance  of  the  first  instalment  of 
War  and  Peace  sufficed  to  place  him  abreast  of  the 
world's  greatest  writers  of  fiction. 

Fourteen  years  later  he  turned  to  spiritual  auto- 

5 

235402 


6  PREFACE 

biography,  and  his  Confession  immediately  took 
rank  beside  those  of  St.  Augustine  and  Rousseau. 

When  he  propounded  his  interpretation  of 
Christ's  teaching,  his  works  produced  a  profound 
impression  and,  though  they  were  prohibited  in 
Russia,  found  a  large  circulation  abroad  besides 
a  surreptitious  one  at  home. 

Next  he  took  to  writing  short,  simple  stories 
for  the  people,  and  the  very  first  of  these,  fVhat 
Men  Live  By  (v.  Twenty-three  Tales)  ^  circulated 
by  hundreds  of  thousands  of  copies  In  Russia,  was 
translated  Into  all  civilised  languages,  and  de- 
lighted people,  old  and  young,  in  the  Rvc  conti- 
nents. 

When  he  turned  his  attention  to  social  prob- 
lems, and  wrote  fVhat  Then  Must  We  Dof  the 
book  aroused  the  deepest  Interest  wherever  It  was 
read,  and  was  promptly  recognised  as  one  of  the 
most  remarkable  studies  of  poverty  ever  penned. 

He  took  to  essays,  and  at  once  produced  a 
series  which  many  readers  have  declared  to  be  as 
Interesting  and  stimulating  as  any  that  were  ever 
written. 

Interested  in  the  philosophy  of  art,  he  wrote 
What  is  Art?     His  preparation  for  this  attempt 


PREFACE  7 

to  put  art  on  a  new  basis  took  him,  It  Is  true,  fifteen 
years,  and  a  majority  of  critics  everywhere  de- 
nounced the  opinions  he  expressed;  but,  at  any 
rate,  there  was  no  doubt  about  the  general  Interest 
he  aroused,  and  the  longer  the  matter  Is  discussed, 
the  stronger  grows  the  suspicion  that  on  the  main 
point  of  the  discussion  Tolstoy  saw  deeper  than  his 
critics,  and  that,  great  artist  as  he  was,  his  phi- 
losophy of  art  as  well  as  his  practice  of  it  was 
fundamentally  sound. 

Finally  his  philippics,  such  as  his  Reply  to  the 
Synod,  which  had  excommunicated  him  (v.  Essays 
and  Letters),  and  his  denunciation  of  the  Courts- 
martial  In  /  Cannot  he  Silent!  rang  out  with  a  sin- 
cerity, courage,  and  effectiveness  unparalleled  since 
Pascal's  Provincial  Letters,  or  the  famous  theses 
Luther  nailed  to  the  church  door  at  Wittenberg. 

Only  as  a  dramatist  did  Tolstoy  fail  at  his  first 
attempt;  and  even  In  that  direction  success  came 
so  promptly  that  It  is  his  success  rather  than  his 
failure  that  surprises  one. 

As  a  seventeen-year-old  student  at  Kazan  Uni- 
versity, he  had  taken  part  with  much  success  in 
two  plays  given  for  some  charity  at  Carnival  time; 
and  his  taste  for  theatricals  did  not  soon  pass, 


8  PREFACE 

for  in  later  years,  when  writing  of  the  time  after 
his  return  from  the  defence  of  Sevastopol,  and  tell- 
ing of  the  death  of  his  brother  Demetrius,  he 
adds:  "  I  really  believe  that  what  hurt  me  most 
was  that  his  death  prevented  my  taking  part  in 
some  private  theatricals  then  being  got  up  at 
Court  and  to  which  I  had  been  Invited." 

While  living  in  Petersburg  and  Moscow  as  a 
young  man,  Tolstoy  was  enthusiastic  In  his  admira- 
tion of  one  of  the  great  Russian  actors  of  those 
days ;  but  he  never  lived  much  In  cities,  and  prob- 
ably no  other  great  dramatist  ever  spent  so  little 
time  in  the  theatre  as  he  did.  In  that,  as  In  many 
other  lines  of  work,  his  quickness  of  perception, 
tenacity  of  memory  and  vividness  of  emotion  en- 
abled him  to  dispense  with  the  long  training  men 
of  less  genius  require. 

In  1863,  soon  after  his  marriage,  he  wrote  two 
plays  which  were  never  published.  One,  a  farcical 
comedy  called  The  Nihilist,  was  privately  per- 
formed with  much  success.  The  other,  also  a 
comedy,  called  The  Infected  Family,  he  Intended 
for  public  performance.  With  that  end  In  view, 
Tolstoy  took  It  to  Moscow  early  In  1864.  The 
theatrical  season  (which  In  Russia  ends  at  the  be- 


PREFACE  9 

ginning  of  Lent)  was  then,  however,  too  far  ad- 
vanced for  any  manager  to  stage  the  piece  that 
winter;  and,  as  it  dealt  with  a  topic  of  the  day 
which  lost  some  of  its  freshness  by  keeping,  Tol- 
stoy never  afterwards  offered  it  to  any  one. 

That  was  the  one  and  only  rebuff  he  ever  had 
to  face  in  his  literary  career,  if  one  excepts  the 
amusing  incident  of  his  sending  a  short  prose  poem 
anonymously  to  a  Moscow  newspaper,  and  re- 
ceiving it  back  declined  with  thanks,  on  the  ground 
that  its  author  was  "  not  yet  sufficiently  expert  in 
expression !  "  For  the  next  six  ye^rs  he  seems  not 
to  have  taken  any  interest  in  the  drama;  but  in 
1870  we  find  him  writing  to  Fet:  — 

"  There  is  much,  very  much,  I  want  to  tell  you 
about.  I  have  been  reading  a  lot  of  Shakespear, 
Goethe,  Pushkin,  Gogol  and  Moliere,  and  about 
all  of  them  there  is  much  I  want  to  say  to  you." 

A  few  days  later  he  again  wrote  to  the  same 
friend :  — 

"  You  want  to  read  me  a  story  of  cavalry  life 
.  .  .  And  I  don't  want  to  read  you  anything, 
because  I  am  not  writing  anything;  but  I  very 
much  want  to  talk  about  Shakespear  and 
Goethe,  and  the  drama  in  general.     This  whole 


10  PREFACE 

winter  I  am  occupied  only  with  the  drama ;  and  it 
happens  to  me,  as  usually  happens  to  people  who, 
till  they  are  forty,  have  not  thought  of  a  certain 
subject,  or  formed  any  conception  of  it;  and  then 
suddenly,  with  forty-year-old  clearness,  turn  their 
attention  to  this  new,  untasted  subject  —  It  seems 
to  them  that  they  discern  In  It  much  that  Is  new. 
All  winter  I  have  enjoyed  myself  lying  down, 
drowsing,  playing  bezique,  snow-shoeing,  skating, 
and  most  of  all  lying  in  bed  (ill)  while  characters 
from  a  drama  or  comedy  have  performed  for  me. 
And  they  perform  very  well.  It  is  about  that  I 
want  to  talk  to  you.  In  that,  as  in  everything,  you 
are  a  classic  and  understand  the  essence  of  the 
matter  very  deeply.  I  should  like  also  to  read 
Sophocles  and  Euripides." 

The  mood  passed,  and  for  another  fifteen  years 
one  hears  no  more  about  it:  Tolstoy  being 
absorbed  first  in  the  production  of  an  ABC  Book 
for  school-children,  then  with  Anna  Karenina, 
then  with  his  Confession  and  religious  studies,  as 
well  as  with  field-work,  hut-building,  and  boot- 
making. 

Early  in  1886,  noting  the  wretched  character  of 
the  plays  given  in  the  booths  at  the   Carnival 


PREFACE  II 

Shows  on  the  Maidens'  Field  just  outside  Moscow, 
not  far  from  his  own  house,  and  feeling  how 
wrong  It  was  that  the  dramatic  food  of  the  people 
should  consist  of  the  crudest  melodramas,  he  was 
moved  to  turn  Into  a  play  a  small  Temperance 
story  he  had  written.  This  piece,  called  The  First 
Distiller,  Is  of  no  great  Importance  In  Itself,  but 
was  the  precursor  of  the  splendid  dramas  he  soon 
afterwards  produced. 

The  following  summer,  while  out  ploughing,  he 
hurts  his  leg,  neglects  It,  and  gets  erysipelas,  which 
almost  leads  to  blood-poisoning.  His  life  Is  in 
imminent  danger,  he  has  to  undergo  a  painful 
operation.  Is  laid  up  for  weeks,  and  while  111  writes 
most  of  The  Power  of  Darkness,  an  Immensely 
powerful  play  which  serves  as  a  touchstone  for 
those  who  have  the  Tolstoy  feeling  In  them. 

From  the  poisoning  of  Peter,  the  husband,  in 
the  beginning,  to  the  murder  of  the  baby  in  the 
middle,  and  NIkita's  arrest  at  the  end,  the  piece 
is  full  of  horrors  which  most  people,  who  do  not 
look  at  things  from  Tolstoy's  point  of  view,  find 
it  wellnigh  impossible  to  endure.  To  them  the 
play  appears  to  be  one  of  unmitigated  blackness. 
To  Tolstoyans  it  is  not  so.     The  lies,  the  crimes, 


12  PREFACE 

the  horrors  are  there,  as  in  real  life;  but  in  the 
play  one  sees  more  clearly  than  In  common  life 
the  clue  to  the  meaning  of  It  all.  When  NIkita's 
conscience  begins  to  be  touched;  when  Mitritch, 
the  old  soldier,  teaches  him  not  to  be  afraid  of 
men;  and  finally  when  Akim,  the  old  father, 
rejoices  that  his  son  has  confessed,  the  heavens 
open  and  the  purpose  of  life  —  the  preparing  for 
what  Is  yet  to  come  by  getting  things  straight 
here  and  now  —  Is  revealed;  and  the  effect  of  the 
play.  Instead  of  being  sordid  or  painful,  becomes 
inspiring. 

The  play  was  founded  on  fact,  though  what 
happened  In  real  life  was  even  more  gruesome, 
for  in  actual  fact  Nikita's  prototype,  when  on 
the  point  of  driving  off  to  Akulina's  wedding, 
suddenly  seized  a  large  wooden  wedge  and  aimed 
a  tremendous  blow  at  her  younger  sister;  and  he 
did  this  not  out  of  malice,  but  because  he  felt  so 
sure  that  it  is  a  misfortune  to  be  alive  in  a  world 
where  things  have  gone  so  wrong  as  they  have 
done  In  the  world  we  live  In.  Fortunately  his 
blow,  which  seemed  certain  to  kill  the  girl,  glanced 
aside,  and  merely  stunned  her  without  doing  her 
any  permanent  Injury. 


PREFACE  13 

The  Power  of  Darkness  was  prohibited  by  the 

Dramatic  Censor,  and  throughout  the  reign  of 

Alexander  III.  its  public  performance  In  Russia 

was  forbidden. 

It  was  produced  for  the  first  time  at  the  Theatre 
Libre  In  Paris,  In  February  188J5.  Among  Its 
most  enthusiastic  admirers  was  Zola,  who  was  as 
anxious  about  it  as  he  could  have  been  had  it 
been  his  own  work.  "  Above  all,  do  not  strike 
out  a  single  scene  or  a  single  word,  and  do  not 
fear  for  Its  success,"  said  he  at  one  of  the  re- 
hearsals ;  and  he  was  quite  right.  The  piece  had  a 
tremendous  success,  and  was  played  at  one  and  the 
same  time  at  three  different  Paris  theatres,  as 
well  as  at  the  Frele  Biihnen  In  Berlin,  where  It 
had  a  similar  triumph.  After  the  accession  of 
Nicholas  II.  It  was  acted  In  Russia,  and  took 
rank  at  once  as  one  of  the  greatest  masterpieces  of 
Russian  dramatic  art,  and  as  such  holds  a  place  In 
the  repertory  of  the  best  Moscow  and  Petersburg 
theatres. 

Many  Englishmen  who  have  seen  It  have  been 
Immensely  impressed  by  It.  Laurence  Irving 
wrote  me:  *'  I  suppose  England  is  the  only  country 
in  Europe  where  The  Power  of  Darkness  has  not 


14  PREFACE 

been  acted.  It  ought  to  be  done.  It  is  a  stupen- 
dous tragedy;  the  effect  on  the  stage  is  unparal- 
leled.'' Bernard  Shaw,  writing  to  Tolstoy,  said, 
*'  I  remember  nothing  in  the  whole  range  of 
drama  that  fascinated  me  more  than  the  old 
soldier  in  your  Power  of  Darkness,  One  of  the 
things  that  struck  me  In  that  play  was  the  feeling 
that  the  preaching  of  the  old  man,  right  as  he  was, 
could  never  be  of  any  use  —  that  it  could  only 
anger  his  son  and  rub  the  last  grains  of  self- 
respect  out  of  him.  But  what  the  pious  and  good 
father  could  not  do,  the  old  rascal  of  a  soldier 
did  as  if  he  was  the  voice  of  God.  To  me  that 
scene,  where  the  two  drunkards  are  wallowing  in 
the  straw  and  the  older  rascal  lifts  the  younger 
one  above  his  cowardice  and  his  selfishness,  has 
an  intensity  of  effect  that  no  merely  romantic 
scene  could  possibly  attain."  Arthur  Symons 
wrote :  "  More  than  any  play  I  have  ever  seen, 
this  astounding  play  of  Tolstoy's  seems  to  me  to 
fulfil  Aristotle's  demand  upon  tragedy :  *  Through 
pity  and  fear  effecting  the  proper  purgation  of 
these  emotions.'  I  had  never  read  it;  my  im- 
pression was  gained  directly  from  seeing  It  on  the 
stage.     Well,  though  as  I  listened  to  it  I  felt  the 


PREFACE  15 

pity  anH  fear  to  be  almost  insupportable,  I  left 
the  theatre  with  a  feeling  of  exultation,  as  I  have 
left  a  concert  room  after  hearing  a  piece  of  noble 
and  tragic  music.  How  out  of  such  human  dis- 
cords such  a  divine  harmony  can  be  woven  I  do 
not  know;  that  is  the  secret  of  Tolstoy's  genius,  as 
It  is  the  secret  of  the  musician's.  Here,  achieved 
in  terms  of  naked  horror,  I  found  some  of  the 
things  that  Maeterlinck  has  aimed  at  and  never 
quite  rendered  through  an  atmosphere  and  through 
forms  of  vague  beauty.  And  I  found  also  an- 
other kind  of  achievement,  by  the  side  of  which 
Ibsen's  cunning  adjustments  of  reality  seemed 
either  trivial  or  unreal.  Here,  for  once,  human 
life  is  islanded  on  the  stage,  a  pin-point  of  light  in 
an  immense  darkness;  and  the  sense  of  that  sur- 
rounding darkness  Is  conveyed  to  us  as  in  no  other 
play  that  I  have  ever  seen,  by  an  awful  sincerity 
and  by  an  unparalleled  simplicity.  Whether  Tol- 
stoy has  learnt  by  instinct  some  stage-craft  which 
playwrights  have  been  toiling  after  In  vain,  or  by 
what  conscious  and  deliberate  art  he  has  supple- 
mented instinct,  I  do  not  know.  But,  out  of  hor- 
ror and  humour,  out  of  the  dregs  of  human  life 
and  out  of  mere  faith  in  those  dregs,  somehow,  as 


i6  PREFACE 

a  man  of  genius  does  once  in  an  age,  Tolstoy  has 
In  this  play  made  for  us  the  great  modern  play, 
the  great  play  of  the  nineteenth  century." 

That  Tolstoy  should  thus  have  begun  success-- 
ful  play-wrlting  at  a  time  when  he  was  supposed 
to  have  turned  aside  from  art,  and  when  he  was 
nearly  sixty  years  of  age,  was  remarkable;  but  at 
any  rate  The  Power  of  Darkness  was  a  serious 
piece,  obviously  dealing  with  moral  questions 
which  stirred  his  soul  profoundly  at  the  time ;  and, 
moreover,  he  wrote  It  for  the  People's  Theatre, 
started  to  provide  first-rate  drama  for  the  peas- 
ants. It  came,  therefore,  as  a  yet  greater  sur- 
prise to  many  people  when,  three  years  later,  he 
was  persuaded  by  his  daughters  to  write  a  comedy 
for  them  to  perform  at  home,  Yasnaya  Polyana. 

One  knows  pretty  welLhow  it  happened.  The 
taste  for  play-wrlting  was  strong  upon  him. 
After  more  than  twelve  years  devoted  to  didactic 
work  which  gave  his  sense  of  humour  little  or  no 
scope,  It  was  In  the  nature  of  things  that  he  should 
feel  some  reaction. 

At  first  the  play  was  to  have  been  only  a  short 
two-act  affair.  He  did  not  like  to  refuse  his 
daughters'  request,  and  thought  that  if  they  must 


PREFACE  17 

act  something,  it  was  better  that  they  should  act  a 
play  voicing  his  contempt  for  the  follies  and  ex- 
travagance of  society  and  his  consciousness  of  the 
peasants'  needs.  Once  started  on  the  work,  how- 
ever, it  took  hold  of  him  and  grew  and  grew,  till 
it  became  a  full-fledged  four-act  comedy  with  over 
thirty  speaking  characters  in  it,  and  with  the 
didactic  purpose  overwhelmed  by  the  fun,  the 
bustle,  and  the  stage-craft  of  it. 

After  many  rehearsals  this  play,  Fruits  of  Cul- 
ture, was  performed  at  Yasnaya  Polyana  on  De- 
cember 30,  1889,  with  Immense  success.  Tanya, 
Tolstoy's  eldest  daughter,  took  the  part  of  her 
namesake  In  "the  play  very  successfully,  and  Mary, 
his  second  daughter,  played  the  cook  most  admir- 
ably. ' 

Tolstoy  himself  heartily  enjoyed  the  perform- 
ance. One  greatly  respects  his  thirty-year 
struggle  to  live  a  simple  life,  consuming  little  and 
giving  much;  but  one  does  not  love  him  the  less 
for  the  occasional  lapses  into  whole-hearted  gaiety 
which  light  up  the  record  of  his  life,  and  show 
us  how  very  human  was  this  giant.  Yasnaya 
Polyana,  on  New  Year's  eve  1889,  crammed  with 
guests  all  in  the  highest  spirits;  the  large  upstairs 


i8  PREFACE 

room  full  of  spectators  laughing  till  their  sides 
ached  at  Tolstoy's  comedy,  is  a  scene  those  who 
would  understand  Tolstoy  should  by  no  means 
forget  or  despise.  Yet,  even  then,  the  other  side 
of  his  nature,  which  never  let  him  rest,  caused  him 
to  note  in  his  Diary:  "  I  am  ashamed  of  all  this 
expense  in  the  midst  of  poverty." 

The  whole  company  threw  themselves  Into  the 
piece  with  enthusiasm,  and  acted  really  well.  In 
particular,  V.  M.  Lopatin,  a  neighbouring  Justice 
of  the  Peace,  extracted  from  the  part  of  the  Third 
Peasant  so  much  more  than  Its  author  had  antici- 
pated or  even  intended,  that  Tolstoy,  in  ecstasies, 
slapped  his  thighs  and  laughed  till  the  tears  rolled 
down  his  cheeks ;  for  he  was  always  extremely  sus- 
ceptible to  anything  really  good,  whether  In  acting 
or  In  other  forms  of  art. 

I  well  remember  meeting  at  Yasnaya  Polyana, 
on  two  different  occasions,  the  sculptor  Ginzburg, 
who  was  an  admirable  mimic.  He  could  keep  a 
room  full  of  people  entranced  while  he  enacted 
a  Jew  tailor  stitching  clothes,  or  a  nurse  tending 
or  neglecting  an  imaginary  baby.  None  of  those 
present  expressed  warmer  admiration  of  these  per- 
formances than  did  Tolstoy  himself,  and  when  he 


PREFACE  19 

went  for  a  walk  with  us  afterwards,  he  said  to 
Ginzburg  with  great  animation : 

"  Ah,  if  our  theatre  realists  could  only  be  got  to 
understand  that  what  is  wanted  is  not  to  put  real 
babies  on  the  stage  or  show  the  real  messes  they 
make,  but  to  convey,  as  you  do,  by  voice  and  fea- 
ture the  real  feeling  that  has  to  be  expressed!  " 

No  blunder  made  by  Tolstoy's  critics  is  more 
gratuitous  or  indefensible  than  the  pretence  that 
he  was  indifferent  to  the  form  of  art,  or  demanded 
of  it  that  it  should  always  have  a  directly  didactic 
intention. 

Not  without  express  purpose  did  he,  in  What 
is  Art?  write,  "  Art  is  a  means  of  union  among 
men,  joining  them  together  in  the  same  feelings, 
and  Indispensable  for  the  life  and  progress 
towards  well-being  of  individuals  and  of  hu- 
manity " ;  and  he  then  goes  on  to  say:  "  Thanks  to 
man's  capacity  to  be  infected  with  the  feelings  of 
others  by  means  of  art,  all  that  Is  being  lived 
through  by  his  contemporaries  is  accessible  to  him, 
as  well  as  the  feelings  experienced  by  men 
thousands  of  years  ago,  and  he  has  also  the  possi- 
bility of  transmitting  his  own  feelings  to  others." 

"  If  men  lacked  this  capacity  of  being  Infected 


20  PREFACE 

by  art,  people  would  be  more  separated  and  hos- 
tile to  one  another,  and  more  savage  than  wild 
beasts.  Therefore,  the  activity  of  art  Is  a  most 
important  one  —  as  Important  as  the  activity  of 
speech  Itself,  and  as  generally  diffused.'*  And  in 
a  memorable  passage  he  adds,  '*  We  are  accus- 
tomed to  understand  art  to  be  only  what  we  hear 
and  see  in  theatres,  concerts,  and  exhibitions;  to- 
gether with  buildings,  statues,  poems,  novels. 
.  .  .  But  all  this  Is  but  the  smallest  part  of  the 
art  by  which  we  communicate  with  each  other  In 
life.  All  human  life  Is  filled  with  works  of  art  of 
every  kind  —  from  cradle-song,  jest,  mimicry,  the 
ornamentation  of  houses,  dress,  and  utensils,  up  to 
church  services,  buildings,  monuments,  and  tri- 
umphal processions.     It  is  all  artistic  activity." 

He  Insists  again  and  again  on  the  value  and 
prevalence  of  art,  and  when  speaking  of  those 
primitive  Christians  and  others  who  have  wished 
to  repudiate  art,  he  says,  "  Evidently  such  people 
were  wrong  In  repudiating  all  art,  for  they  denied 
that  which  cannot  be  denied — one  of  the  Indis- 
pensable means  of  communication,  without  which 
mankind  could  not  exist." 

Tolstoy  knew  very  well  that   a  performance 


PREFACE  21 

must  be  excellent  in  its  form  and  method  of  ex- 
pression In  order  to  be  a  work  of  art.  In  the 
Illustration  he  gives  of  the  performance  of  music, 
for  Instance,  he  says  that  for  musical  execution  to 
be  artistic  and  to  transmit  feeling,  many  condi- 
tions are  necessary,  of  which  the  three  chief  are 
the  pitch,  the  time,  and  the  strength  of  the  sound, 
and  he  adds :  "  Musical  execution  is  only  then  art, 
only  then  infects,  when  the  sound  is  neither  higher 
nor  lower  than  it  should  be  —  that  is,  when  exactly 
the  infinitely  small  centre  of  the  required  note  is 
taken ;  when  that  note  is  continued  exactly  as  long 
as  needed;  and  when  the  strength  of  the  sound  is 
neither  more  nor  less  than  is  required.  The 
slightest  deviation  of  pitch  in  either  direction,  the 
slightest  increase  or  decrease  in  time,  or  the 
slightest  strengthening  or  weakening  of  the  sound 
beyond  what  Is  needed,  destroys  the  perfection 
and,  consequently,  the  infectiousness  of  the  work. 
So  that  the  feeling  of  infection  by  the  art  of  music, 
which  seems  so  simple  and  so  easily  obtained,  is  a 
thing  we  receive  only  when  the  performer  finds 
those  infinitely  minute  degrees  which  are  necessary 
to  perfection  in  music.  It  is  the  same  in  all  arts : 
a  wee  bit  lighter,  a  wee  bit  darker,  a  wee  bit 


22  PREFACE 

higher,  lower,  to  the  right  or  the  left  —  In  paint- 
ing; a  wee  bit  weaker  or  stronger  in  intonation,  or 
a  wee  bit  sooner  or  later  —  in  dramatic  art;  a  wee 
bit  omitted,  over-emphasised,  or  exaggerated  — 
in  poetry,  and  there  is  no  contagion.  It  is  only 
obtained  when  an  artist  finds  those  infinitely  minute 
degrees  of  which  a  work  of  art  consists,  and  only 
to  the  extent  to  which  he  finds  them.'* 

Confronted  by  words  such  as  these,  it  is  amaz- 
ing that  any  one  can  pretend  that  Tolstoy  was  in- 
dif][erent  to  quality  in  the  forms  of  art;  but  not 
less  amazing  is  the  assertion  that  only  what  Is 
directly  moralising  was  considered  by  him  fit 
subject-matter  for  art.  On  this  point  his  words 
are  decisive,  when  he  includes  among  the  subject- 
matter  suitable  for  good  art,  "  the  simplest  feel- 
ings of  common  life." 

The  truth  Is  that.  In  spite  of  certain  preposses- 
sions which  tend  to  confuse  the  matter,  and  In  spite 
of  his  pugnacious  controversial  methods,  which 
often  led  to  recrimination  rather  than  to  elucida- 
tion, Tolstoy's  greatness  as  an  artist  was  increased 
by  the  fact  that  he  thoroughly  understood  the  aim 
and  purpose  of  art;  and  he  was  able  to  speak  with 
authority  on  the  philosophy  of  art,  just  because  he 


PREFACE  23 

was  one  of  the  most  intellectual  and  Intelligent  of 
the  world's  artists. 

As  mentioned  In  my  Life  of  Tolstoy,  the  main 
theme  In  Fruits  of  Culture  was  drawn  from  Tol- 
stoy's acquaintance  with  the  Lvovs,  a  wealthy  and 
aristocratic  family,  the  head  of,  which  wished  to 
convert  Tolstoy  to  spiritualism.  The  latter 
sturdily  maintained  a  sceptical  attitude,  arguing 
that  since  mankind  has  been  at  the  pains  to  dis- 
criminate between  matter  (which  can  be  Investi- 
gated by  the  five  senses)  and  spirit  (which  Is  an 
affair  of  the  conscience,  and  cannot  be  Investi- 
gated by  the  senses),  we  must  not  again  confuse 
the  two  by  attempting  to  find  physical  evidence  of 
spiritual  existence.  If  the  phenomena  we  are 
Investigating  Is  cognisable  by  the  senses,  then,  he 
argued,  such  phenomena  are,  ipso  facto,  not 
spiritual,  but  material.  In  this,  as  In  certain  other 
matters,  Tolstoy,  seeking  clearness,  painted  in 
black  and  white,  and  shunned  those  delicate  shades 
which  often  elude  and  perplex  us  —  but  without 
which,  after  all,  it  is  not  always  possible  to  get  a 
true  picture. 

Fruits  of  Culture  found  Its  way  on  to  the  public 
stage  In  Russia  before  The  Power  of  Darkness, 


24  PREFACE 

and  both  there  and  abroad  the  two  plays  have  been 
almost  equally  successful.  It  is  often  treated  as 
pure  comedy,  and  the  peasants  presented  as  simply 
comic  characters.  This  Tolstoy  did  not  intend, 
and  did  not  like.  He  meant  the  hardness  of  their 
lot  and  their  urgent  need  of  land  to  stand  out  in 
sharp  contrast  to  the  waste  of  wealth  by  the  cul- 
tured crowd. 

During  the  last  thirty  years  of  his  life  Tolstoy 
himself  used,  as  is  well  known,  to  dress  much  like 
a  peasant,  though  never  in  the  beggar-pilgrim 
garb  in  which  he  Is  made  to  figure  In  a  Life  of  him 
recently  published  in  this  country;  and  it  happened 
that  one  winter's  day,  when  Fruits  of  Culture  was 
being  rehearsed  in  Tula  (the  nearest  town  to  Yas- 
naya  Polyana),  he  went,  by  request,  to  the  hall 
where  it  was  being  staged.  Wearing  his  rough 
sheepskin  overcoat,  he  attempted  to  enter,  but  was 
roughly  shoved  out  by  the  doorkeeper,  who  told 
him  It  was  no  place  for  the  likes  of  him ! 

The  same  year  the  play  was  presented  at  Tsar- 
skoe  Selo,  by  amateurs  drawn  from  the  high- 
est circles  of  Court  society,  and  was  witnessed 
by  a  dozen  Grand  Dukes  and  Grand-Duchesses 
as  well   as  by  the   Tsar  himself,   who   warmly 


PREFACE  25 

thanked  the  performers  for  the  pleasure  it 
had  given  him.  So  the  whirligig  of  time  brought 
it  about  that  Tolstoy,  who  twenty-three  years  be- 
fore had  just  missed  his  chance  of  acting  at  the 
Imperial  Court,  now  had  a  play  of  his  own  per- 
formed there,  while  he  himself  was  being  mistaken 
for  a  peasant,  and  on  that  account  treated  with 
gross  indignity. 

We  have  Tolstoy's  word  for  it  that  he  would 
have  written  more  plays  had  it  not  been  for  the 
censor.  He  once  said,  "  I  feel  certain  the  censor 
would  not  pass  my  plays.  You  would  not  believe 
how,  from  the  very  commencement  of  my  activity, 
that  horrible  censor  question  has  tormented  me! 
I  wanted  to  write  what  I  felt;  but  at  the  same  time 
it  occurred  to  me  that  what  I  wrote  would  not 
be  permitted,  and  involuntarily  I  had  to  abandon 
the  work.  I  abandoned,  and  went  on  abandoning, 
and  meanwhile  the  years  passed  away." 

He  once  expressed  surprise  that.  In  Fruits  of 
Culture,  the  drunken  man-cook's  monologue  on  the 
ways  of  the  rich  folk  was  allowed  to  be  performed. 

Of  the  three  plays  left  by  Tolstoy  for  publi- 
cation after  his  death,  one  is  a  short  two-act  Tem- 
perance play  called  in  English  The  Cause  of  it  All 


26  PREFACE 

(the  Russian  title  Is  a  colloquialism  difficult  to  ren- 
der, but  "  From  It  all  evil  flows  "  Is  as  near  as 
one  can  get  to  It) .  It  does  not  claim  to  be  a  piece 
of  much  Importance,  but  If  ever  It  Is  staged,  it 
should  act  easily  and  well. 

Another  of  these  posthumous  plays  Is  The  Man 
That  Was  Dead  (The  Live  Corpse),  a  powerful 
piece,  in  which  Tolstoy  Introduces  one  of  those 
gipsy  choirs  which  had  such  an  influence  on  him 
(and  still  more  on  his  brother  Serglus)  when  he 
was  a  young  man  of  twenty  to  twenty-three,  before 
he  went  to  the  Caucasus  and  entered  the  army. 

The  position  of  the  gipsy  choirs  In  Russia  is 
a  peculiar  one.  Reputedly  Egyptian  in  origin 
("  Pharaoh's  Tribe,''  one  of  the  characters  In  the 
play  calls  them),  they  live  a  life  quite  distinct 
from  that  of  the  Russians,  yet  not  at  all  resem- 
bling that  of  the  Itinerant  gipsies  one  meets  travel- 
ling about  with  caravans  in  England.  They 
possess  a  remarkable  musical  talent,  having  a  kind 
of  music  both  vocal  and  instrumental  all  their 
own.  They  perform  at  special  restaurants  in  the 
suburbs  of  Moscow,  and  also  give  concerts  in  pub- 
lic halls  and  at  private  houses.  It  Is  no  more 
unusual  for  Russian  noblemen  to  marry  gipsy  girls 


PREFACE  27 

than  it  is  for  English  noblemen  to  marry  Gaiety 
girls.  The  songs  referred  to  in  Scene  ll  are  all 
well-known  gipsy  songs,  and  If  staged  with  a  real 
gipsy  choir  to  perform  them,  this  should  be  one  of 
the  most  striking  scenes  In  the  play. 

Tolstoy  himself  held  that  gipsy  music  deserved 
to  rank  among  the  best  kinds  of  music,  on  account 
of  Its  genuine  spontaneity,  the  depth  of  feeling  In 
It,  and  the  exquisite  perfection  with  which  it  Is 
rendered  by  the  gipsies.  His  own  daughters  used 
to  play  and  sing  gipsy  songs  admirably. 

The  main  plot  of  this  play,  like  that  of  The 
Power  of  Darkness^  was  supplied  to  Tolstoy  by 
his  friend  N.  V.  Davydov,  a  Judge  and  a  Lecturer 
on  criminal  law  at  Moscow  University,  who  fre- 
quently drew  his  attention  to  cases  that  occurred 
In  the  Law  Courts,  and  which  Davydov  thought 
might  provide  suitable  subjects  for  a  story  or  a 
drama. 

Curiously  enough,  after  Tolstoy  had  written 
this  play,  he  was  visited  first  by  the  stepson  of  the 
"  live  corpse,"  and  then  by  the  "  live  corpse  "  him- 
self. The  latter  had  been  convicted,  had  served 
his  time,  and  had  returned  to  Moscow.  He  had 
given  up  drink  and  was  seeking  means  of  subsist- 


28  PREFACE 

ence,  when  he  heard  of  the  play  Tolstoy  was  writ- 
ing, and  that  it  was  founded  on  his  own  case. 
Tolstoy  questioned  him  carefully,  and  as  a  result 
of  the  conversation  rewrote  the  play  In  order  to 
set  the  conduct  of  the  corpse  In  a  more  favourable 
light  than  before.  In  this  revised  version  Tol- 
stoy makes  him  finally  commit  suicide,  whereas  in 
an  earlier  version  the  law  took  its  course  as  It  did 
in  real  life,  and  matters  only  settled  down  and 
adjusted  themselves  after  his  victims  had  served 
their  sentences  and  justice  had  ceased  to  meddle. 

Tolstoy  also  gave  the  "  corpse "  a  letter  to 
Davydov,  who  obtained  for  him  some  small  post 
at  the  Law  Courts,  where  he  served  till  his  death ; 
no  one  but  his  benefactors  and  his  own  family 
knowing  who  he  was.  Some  time  after  his  death 
Davydov  told  me  this  about  him. 

Part  of  the  attraction  of  the  story  for  Tolstoy 
lay  In  the  fact  that  the  intervention  of  the  law  did 
no  good  to  any  one,  but  only  harm  to  all  con- 
cerned; for  it  was  part  and  parcel  of  Tolstoy's 
non-resistant  theory  that  Law  Courts  and  the 
Administration  of  justice  are  purely  noxious. 

The  Man  That  Was  Dead  has  already  been 
staged  at  the  Artistic  Theatre  in  Moscow,  and  It 


PREFACE  29 

IS  to  be  hoped  that  we  shall  see  it  in  London;  but 
the  last  of  Tolstoy's  plays,  The  Light  That  Shines 
in  Darkness,  was  left  unfinished,  and  is  hardly 
likely  to  be  produced,  unless  by  the  Stage  Society, 
or  some  similar  organisation.  In  Russia  it  is  pro- 
hibited on  account  of  its  allusions  to  the  refusal  of 
military  service. 

Yet  it  Is  in  some  ways  the  most  interesting  of 
Tolstoy's  posthumous  works.  It  is  obviously  not 
strictly  autobiographical,  for  Tolstoy  was  not 
assassinated  as  the  hero  of  the  piece  is,  nor  was 
his  daughter  engaged  to  be  married  to  a  young 
prince  who  refused  military  service.  But  like 
some  of  his  other  writings,  the  play  Is  semi-autobi- 
ographical. In  It,  not  only  has  Tolstoy  utilised 
personal  experiences,  but  more  than  that,  he 
answers  the  question  so  often  asked:  Why,  hold- 
ing his  views,  did  he  not  free  himself  from 
property  before  he  grew  old? 

Some  people,  and  especially  some  of  those  most 
devoted  to  Tolstoy's  memory,  are  sure  to  suppose 
and  to  declare  that  he  intends  Nicholas  Ivanovlch 
Sarlntsev  to  be  taken  as  a  faithful  portrait  of  him- 
self. But  to  understand  Tolstoy  one  has  to  recog- 
nise the  duality  of  his  character,  which  he  never 


30  PREFACE 

concealed  and  often  mentioned;  and  the  hero  of 
The  Light  That  Shines  in  Darkness  has  none  of 
this  duality.  He  represents  only  one  side  of  Tol- 
stoy, and  is  not  at  all  the  sort  of  man,  for  instance, 
who  would  have  written  or  enjoyed  Fruits  of  Cul- 
ture, 

Not  only  are  the  facts  different  to  the  real  ones, 
and  the  character  of  the  hero  much  simpler  than 
Tolstoy's  own,  but  the  problem  at  issue  between 
Sarlntsev  and  his  wife  is  not  quite  the  same  as  the 
one  at  issue  between  Tolstoy  and  the  Countess. 
With  that  unerring  artistic  tact  which  Tolstoy 
never  lost,  he  causes  Nicholas  Ivanovich  Sarintsev 
to  make  a  definite  proposal  to  retain  "  fifty  acres 
and  the  kitchen  garden  and  the  flooded  meadow," 
which  would  "  bring  in  about  £50  a  year."  Now 
what  in  real  life  most  frightened  the  Countess, 
was  not  that  she  was  asked  to  accept  poverty,  but 
that  she  was  asked  to  manage  a  household  in  which 
there  should  be  no  limit  to  the  giving  up. 

Tolstoy  held,  as  he  says  in  The  Demands  of 
Love,  that  if  people  begin  giving  up  and  set  any 
limits  thereto,  then  ''  life  will  be  hell,  or  will  be- 
come hell,  if  they  are  not  hypocrites.  •  .  . 
Where  and  how  can  one  stop?     Only  those  will 


PREFACE  31 

iind  a  stopping-place  who  are  strangers  to  the  feel- 
ing of  the  reality  of  the  brotherhood  of  man,  or 
who  are  so  accustomed  to  He  that  they  no  longer 
notice  the  difference  between  truth  and  falsehood. 
The  fact  is,  no  such  stopping-place  can  exist. 
.  .  .  If  you  give  the  beggar  your  last  shillings, 
you  will  be  left  without  bread  to-morrow;  but  to 
refuse  means  to  turn  from  that  for  the  sake  of 
which  one  lives.'* 

Had  that  point,  and  the  need  of  admitting  to 
one's  cottage  "  the  tramp  with  his  lice  and  his 
typhus,"  and  giving  away  the  children's  last  cup 
of  milk,  been  pressed  home  in  the  play  as  it  was 
in  Tolstoy's  teaching,  some  of  the  readers'  sympa- 
thy would  go  over  to  the  side  of  the  wife  called  on 
to  face  such  conditions  for  herself  and  her  family; 
and  that  is  why  Tolstoy's  artistic  instinct  In- 
duced him  to  Introduce  a  definite  proposal  quite 
at  variance  with  the  demands  of  his  own  teach- 
ing. 

And  again,  the  conflict  in  the  play  is  be- 
tween the  husband  on  the  one  side  and  the  wife 
and  family  on  the  other.  There  Is  no  mention  of 
a  friend  urging  the  husband  on  In  opposition  to 
the  wife.     Those  who  closely  followed  Tolstoy's 


32  PREFACE 

own  fate  well  know  that  on  this  point  also  the  play 
does  not  describe  his  own  case. 

Not  the  less  on  that  account  does  the  play  most 
touchlngly  present  to  us  the  Intense  tragedy  of 
Tolstoy's  later  years,  and  the  Impossibility  In 
which  he  found  himself  of  acting  so  as  neither  to 
violate  his  own  conscience  nor  to  evoke  anger  In 
the  hearts  of  those  nearest  to  him.  His  religion 
had  brought  "  not  peace,  but  a  sword  ";  and  It  was 
because  he  believed  In  It  so  firmly,  and  yet  shrank 
from  treating  those  of  his  own  household  as  his 
foes,  that  his  struggle  was  so  Intense,  and  that  for 
more  than  thirty  years  he  hesitated  before  he  de- 
cided to  leave  wife  and  home,  the  scenes  endeared 
to  him  by  childhood's  memory,  and  the  spot  where 
he  hoped  to  be  (and  eventually  was)  burled  —  the 
spot  where  his  brother  had  hidden  the  green  stick 
on  which  he  said  was  Inscribed  the  secret  of  how 
to  banish  from  the  world  all  sin,  bitterness,  dis- 
cord, and  evil  = —  all,  in  short,  that  makes  us  sad  or 
sorry.    ^ 

Plays  Tolstoy  found  more  difficult  to  write  than 
stories  or  novels;  for  In  the  novel  or  story  It  Is 
possible  to  stop  and  explain,  and  gradually  to  pre- 


PREFACE  33 

pare  an  incident  or  develop  a  character,  whereas 
in  a  play  the  situations  and  clash  of  characters  and 
wills  have  to  be  presented  ripe  and  ready. 
Novel-writing  he  compared  to  painting,  in  which 
many  shades  may  be  employed;  plays  he  compared 
to  sculpture,  where  all  must  be  clear-cut,  definite, 
and  compact. 

He  often  remarked  that  subjects  suitable  for 
novels  are  not  suitable  for  plays  and  vice  versa; 
and  he  expressed  satisfaction  that  he  had  never 
been  obliged  to  witness  the  dramatised  versions  of 
Resurrection  or  of  Anna  Karenina  which  have 
been  staged.  He  had  nothing  at  all  to  do  with 
those  productions,  and  quite  disapproved  of  them. 

Of  his  plays  in  general  Tolstoy  once  remarked 
to  me:  "When  writing  them  I  never  anticipated 
the  importance  that  has  been  attributed  to  them.** 
While  he  fully  recognised,  and  perhaps  at  times 
overrated,  the  value  of  his  didactic  and  propa- 
gandist writings,  he  was  often  inclined  to  under- 
rate the  value  of  the  artistic  work  which  during 
his  later  years  he  sometimes  undertook  more  or 
less  as  a  recreation,  and  on  that  account  was  the 
more  ready  to  treat  lightly.  It  was  mentioned 
by  the  Editor  in  the  first  volume  of  these  Posthu- 


34  PREFACE 

mous  Works  of  Tolstoy's,  the  translations  were 
chosen  by  an  agent  of  the  executors;  and  I  am 
responsible  only  for  the  novel  Hadjo-Murad  which 
will  appear  in  the  third  volume. 

AYLMER  MAUDE. 


THE    LIGHT   THAT    SHINES    IN 
DARKNESS 


M 


« 


DRAMATIS  PERSONS 

Nicholas  Ivanovich  Sarintsev. 
Marie  Ivanovna  (Masha),  his  wife. 


their  daughters. 


LuBA  (LubovNicolaevna), 

MiSSIE, 

Stezpen,    J  ^^^.^  ^^^^ 

Vania,        J 

MiTROFAN  Dmitrich.     Tutor  to  Vania. 

Alexandra  Ivanovna.  Sister  to  Marie  Ivan- 
ovna. 

Peter  Semenovich  Kokhovtsev.  Her  husband. 

Lisa.     Their  daughter. 

Princess  Cheremshanov. 

Boris.     Her  son. 

ToNiA.     Her  daughter. 

Father  Vasily  (Vasily  Ermilovich).  A  vil- 
lage priest. 

Father  Gerasim. 

Alexis  Mikhailovich  Starkovsky. 

Nurse  and  Footmen  in  Sarintsev's  house. 

Ivan,  i 

Sebastian, 

Ephraim, 

Peter, 

A  Peasant  Woman.     Ivan's  wife. 


Peasants. 


38  DRAMATIS  PERSONS 

Malashka.     Ivan's  daughter. 

Alexander  Petrovich.     A  tramp. 

A  country  Police  Sergeant. 

Lawyer. 

Yakov.     Carpenter. 

Clerk. 

Sentries. 

General. 

Colonel. 

Aide-de-camp. 

Soldiers. 

Police  Officer. 

Stenographer. 

Chaplain. 

Patients  in  Hospital. 

Sick  Officer. 

Head  Physician. 

House  Surgeon. 

Warders. 

Countess  and  other  Guests  at  Sarlntsev*s  dance. 

Pianist. 


m^ 


m. 


ACT  I 

The  stage  represents  a  covered  veranda  in  a  rich 
country-house.  In  front  of  the  veranda  are  a 
flower  garden^  a  tennis  ground,  and  a  croquet 
lawn.  The  children  with  their  governess  are  play- 
ing croquet.  On  the  veranda  are  seated:  Marie 
IVANOVNA  Sarintsev,  a  handsome,  elegant 
woman  of  forty;  her  sister  Alexandra  Ivanovna 
KOKHOVTSEV,  a  fat,  positive,  and  stupid  woman 
of  forty-five:  and  her  husband,  Peter  Semeno- 
VICH  KoKHOVTSEV,  a  fat,  stout,  clumsy  man  of 
slovenly  appearance,  wearing  a  summer  suit  and 
eye-glasses.  They  all  sit  at  a  table  laid  for  break- 
fast with  samovar  and  coffee.  All  are  drinking, 
coffee;  Peter  Semenovich  is  smoking. 

Alexandra. 
If  you  were  not  my  sister,  and  Nicholas  Ivano- 
vich  were  not  your  husband,  but  merely  an 
acquaintance,  I  should  find  all  this  novel  and 
charming,  and  should  perhaps  uphold  him.  I 
should  have  found  it  very  nice.  But  when  I  see 
your  husband  playing  the  fool,  simply  playing 
the  fool,  I  cannot  help  telling  you  what  I  think 
of  it.  And  I  shall  tell  him  too,  that  husband 
of  yours.  I  shall  speak  straight  out  to  dear 
Nicholas.     I  am  not  afraid  of  anybody. 

39 


40  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

Marie. 

I  do  not  mind  In  the  least:  I  see  It  myself.  But 
I  really  do  not  think  It  Is  as  Important  as  all  that. 

Alexandra. 

You  may  not  think  so;  but  I  assure  you,  If 
you  let  It  go  on,  you  will  all  be  beggared.  That 
is  what  will  come  of  this  sort  of  thing.     .     .     . 

Peter. 
Beggared,  Indeed  I     With  their  fortune  I 

Alexandra. 

Yes,  beggared.  Don't  Interrupt  me.  Of 
course,  you  always  think  that  anything  a  man  does 
Is  right. 

Peter. 

I  don't  know.     I  only  say.     .     .     ,. 

Alexandra. 

You  never  know  what  you  are  talking  about, 
and  when  once  you  men  begin  your  nonsense, 
there  Is  no  knowing  where  It  will  end.  All  I  say 
Is,  that  If  I  were  In  your  place,  I  should  not  allow 
it.  I  should  have  put  a  stop  to  all  this.  I  never 
heard  of  such  a  thing.  The  husband,  the  head 
of  the  family,  does  nothing,  neglects  his  affairs, 
gives  everything  away,   and  plays  the  bountiful 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  41 

right  and  left.     I  know  how  It  will  end.     I  know 
all  about  It. 

Peter. 
{to  Marie  Ivanovna.)  Do  explain  to  me, 
Marie,  what  this  new  fad  of  his  Is.  There  are 
Liberals,  County  Councils,  the  Constitution 
Schools,  reading-rooms  and  all  the  rest  of  It  —  I 
understand  all  that.  Then  there  are  Socialists, 
strikes,  an  eight-hour  day  —  I  understand  that  too. 
But  what  Is  all  this  ?     Do  explain. 

Marie. 
He  told  you  all  about  It  yesterday. 

Peter. 
I  own  that  I  could  not  understand.     The  Gos- 
pel, the  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  that  churches  are 
unnecessary.     But  where  are  we  to  pray,  and  all 
that? 

Marie. 
That  Is  the  worst  of  It.     He  would  destroy 
everything  and  put  nothing  In  Its  place. 

Peter. 
How  did  it  begin? 

Marie. 
It  began  last  year,  when  his  sister  died.     He 
became  very  gloomy,  perpetually  spoke  of  death, 


42  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

and  then  fell  ill,  as  you  know.     And  after  his 
typhoid  fever  he  changed  entirely. 

Alexandra. 
Still  he  came  to  see  us  in  Moscow  in  the  spring, 
and  he  was  very  amiable  and  played  cards.     He 
was  very  nice  and  quite  normal. 

Marie. 
Yes,  but  he  was  not  the  same. 

Peter. 
In  what  way? 

Marie. 
He  was  perfectly  indifferent  to  his  family,  and 
the  New  Testament  had  become  an  obsession. 
He  read  it  all  day;  at  night  he  got  up  to  read 
it  instead  of  sleeping,  making  notes  and  copying 
out  passages.  Then  he  began  to  visit  bishops  and 
aged  monks,  to  discuss  religion. 

Alexandra. 

Did  he  go  to  confession  and  take  the  sacra- 
ment? 

Marie. 

Before  that  he  had  not  done  so  since  his  mar- 
riage, that  is  for  twenty-five  years.  But  at  the 
time  I  am  speaking  of  he  confessed  and  took  com- 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  43 

munlon  at  the  monastery,  and  immediately  after- 
ward decided  it  was  unnecessary  to  confess,  or 
even  to  go  to  church  at  all. 

Alexandra. 

You  see  how  inconsistent  he  is.  A  month  ago 
he  went  to  church  and  kept  all  the  fasts ;  now  sud- 
denly he  thinks  all  that  is  useless. 

Marie. 

Well,  talk  to  him  yourself. 

Alexandra. 

I  .will;  indeed  I  will. 

Peter. 

All  that  does  not  matter  much. 

Alexandra. 

It  seems  to  you  that  it  does  not  matter,  because 
men  have  no  religion. 

Peter. 

Do  let  me  speak.  I  say  that  that  is  not  the 
point.  If  he  denies  the  Church,  where  does  the 
New  Testament  come  in? 

Marie. 
He  says  we  are  to  live  in  accordance  with  the 
Sermon  on  the  Mount,  and  give  everything  away. 


44  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

Peter. 

How  are  we  to  live  ourselves  if  we  give  every- 
thing away? 

Alexandra. 

And  where  does  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount 
order  us  to  shake  hands  with  our  footmen?  It 
says  "  blessed  are  the  meek,"  but  there  is  not  a 
word  about  shaking  hands. 

Marie. 

Of  course  he  is  fanatical  in  this,  as  he  always 
is  when  he  takes  up  anything.  At  one  time  it 
was  music,  then  schools.  .  .  .  But  that  does 
not  make  it  any  easier  for  me. 

PETEiR. 

Why  has  he  gone  to  town? 
Marie. 

He  did  not  tell  me,  but  I  know  he  has  gone 
to  attend  the  hearing  of  the  timber-stealing  case. 
The  peasants  cut  down  some  of  our  forest. 

Peter. 
Those  big  fir-trees  ? 

Marie. 
Yes.     They  were  condemned  to  pay  for  them, 
and  sentenced  to  imprisonment,  and  their  appeal 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  45 

IS  to  be  heard  to-day.     I  am  sure  that  Is  why  he 
went. 

Alexandra. 
He  will  forgive  them,  and  to-morrow  they  will 
come  and  chop  down  all  the  trees  In  his  park. 

Marie. 
They  seem  to  be  beginning  already.     All  the 
apple  trees  are  broken,  and  the  fields  trampled. 
He  forgives  It  all. 

Peter. 
How  extraordinary! 

Alexandra. 
That  Is  exactly  why  I  say  that  you  must  Inter- 
fere.    If  It  continues  much  longer  —  everything 
win  go.     I  think  It  Is  your  duty  as  a  mother  to 
take  some  steps. 

Marie. 
What  can  I  do? 

Alexandra. 

What  can  you  do.  Indeed?  Put  a  stop  to  It, 
make  him  understand  that  It  Is  Impossible.  You 
have  children.     What  an  example  to  set  them  I 

Marie. 
It  Is  hard,  but  I  try  to  bear  It,  and  to  hope  that 


46  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

this  will  pass  as  all  his  other  infatuations  have 
done. 

Alexandra. 
Yes ;  but  God  helps  those  who  help  themselves. 
You  must  make  him  feel  that  he  Is  not  alone,  and 
that  he  Is  not  living  In  the  proper  way. 

Marie. 

The  worst  of  It  all  Is  that  he  takes  no  interest 
in  the  children.  I  have  to  settle  everything  by 
myself.  On  the  one  hand  I  have  a  baby,  and  on 
the  other,  grown-up  children  —  a  girl  and  a  boy 
' —  who  both  need  attention  and  guidance,  and  I  am 
alone.  He  used  to  be  such  a  careful  and  tender 
father.  Now  he  does  not  care  about  anything. 
Last  night  I  told  him  Vania  was  lazy  and  had 
failed  again  In  his  examinations,  and  he  said  it 
would  be  much  better  for  him  to  leave  school 
altogether. 

Peter. 

Where  would  he  send  him? 

Marie. 
Nowhere.     That   is   the   horrible   part   of  it. 
Everything  is  wrong,  but  he  does  not  say  what  we 
are  to  do. 

Peter. 
How  strange ! 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  47 

Alexandra. 
Not  at  all  strange.     It  is  just  the  usual  way  you 
men  have  of  finding  fault  with  everything  and  do- 
ing nothing  yourselves. 

Marie. 

Stephen  has  finished  his  studies  and  must  decide 
what  he  is  going  to  do,  but  his  father  will  not  say 
anything  to  him  about  it.  He  wanted  to  enter 
the  Civil  Service  —  his  father  said  it  was  useless ; 
he  wanted  to  enter  the  Horse  Guards  —  Nicholas 
Ivanovich  disapproved.  The  boy  asked  what  he 
was  to  do,  and  his  father  asked  why  he  did  not 
go  and  plough :  that  would  be  far  better  than  the 
Civil  Service.  What  is  he  to  do?  He  comes  to 
me  for  advice,  and  I  have  to  decide.  But  the 
means  of  carrying  out  any  plan  are  in  his  father's 
hands. 

Alexandra. 

You  ought  to  tell  Nicholas  so  plainly. 

Marie. 
Yes ;  I  must  talk  to  him. 

Alexandra. 
Tell  him  plainly  that  you  cannot  stand  it:  that 
you    do   your    duty   and   that   he   must    do    his. 
Otherwise,  he  had  better  make  the  property  over 
to  you. 


48  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

Marie. 
Oh  1  that  IS  so  unpleasant. 

Alexandra. 
I  will  tell  him,  if  you  like.     I  will  tell  him  so 
straight  out. 

(A  young  priest  enters,  somewhat 
shy  and  nervous.  He  carries  a  hook 
and  shakes  hands  with  all  present.) 

Father  Vasily. 
I  have  come  to  see  Nicholas  Ivanovich.     IVe 
*—  IVe  brought  back  a  book. 

Marie. 
He  has  gone  to  town,  but  he  will  soon  return. 

Alexandra. 
What  book  did  he  lend  you? 

Father  Vasily. 
It   IS   Renan — ^yes  —  a   book' — the   Life   of 
Jesus. 

Peter. 
Oh  I  what  a  book  for  you  to  read. 

Alexandra. 
{contemptuously.)     Did  Nicholas  Ivanovich  give 
you   that   to    read?     Well,    do   you    agree   with 
Nicholas  Ivanovich,  and  with  Monsieur  Renan? 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  49 

Father  Vasily. 
(excited,    lighting   a    cigarette,^     Yes,    Nicholas 
Ivanovich  gave  it  to  me  to  read.     Of  course  I  do 
not  agree  with  it.     If  I  did  I  should  not  be,  so  to 
speak,  a  servant  of  the  Church. 
Alexandra. 
And  since  you  are,  so  to  speak,  a  true  servant 
of  the  Church,  why  don't  you  convert  Nicholas 
Ivanovich  ? 

Father  Vastly. 
Everybody,  if  I  may  say  so,  has  his  own  views 
on  these  subjects.  And  Nicholas  Ivanovich,  if  I 
may  say  so,  says  much  that  is  true.  But  on  the 
main  point  he  is  In  error  concerning  er  -. —  er  —  er 
—  the  Church. 

Alexandra. 
And  what  are  the  true  things  that  Nicholas 
Ivanovich  says?     Is  it  true  that  the  Sermon  on 
the  Mount  bids  us  give  away  our  possessions  to 
strangers,  and  let  our  family  be  beggars? 

Father  Vasily. 
The  family  Is,  so  to  speak,  held  sacred  in  the 
Church,  and  the  fathers  of  the  Church  have  be- 
stowed their  blessing  on  the  family,  haven't  they? 
But  the  highest  perfection  requires  —  well,  yes, 
requires  renunciation  of  earthly  goods. 


so  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

Alexandra. 
That  is  all  very  well  for  saints,  but  ordinary 
mortals  ought  simply  to  act  hke  good  Christians. 

Father  Vasily. 
Nobody  can  tell  what  he  was  sent  to  earth  for. 

Alexandra. 
You  are  married,  I  suppose? 

Father  Vasily. 
Certainly. 

Alexandra. 
And  have  you  got  any  children? 

Father  Vasily. 
Yes,  two. 

Alexandra. 
Then  why  don't  you  renounce  earthly  joys  in- 
stead of  smoking  cigarettes? 

Father  Vasily. 
It  Is,  I  may  say,  owing  to  my  weakness  and  my 
unworthiness  that  I  do  not. 

Alexandra. 
It  seems  to  me  that  instead  of  bringing  Nicholas 
Ivanovich  to  his  senses,  you  are  upholding  him. 
I  tell  you  frankly  it  is  not  right. 

(Enter  Nurse.) 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  51 

Nurse. 
Don't  you  hear  baby  crying?     Please  come  to 
him. 

Marie. 
Tm  coming '^ — I'm  coming.  (Exit,) 

Alexandra. 
I  am  so  sorry  for  my  sister.  I  see  how  she 
suffers.  It  is  no  easy  matter  to  manage  a  house- 
hold —  seven  children,  and  one  of  them  a  baby  at 
the  breast.  And  he  with  his  new-fangled  theories 
^ —  I  really  think  he  is  not  quite  right  here  (points 
to  her  head.)  Now  tell  me  truly,  what  is  this 
new  religion  you  have  discovered? 

Father  Vasily. 
I  don't  quite  understand,  if  I  may  say  so. 

Alexandra. 
Please  do  not  pretend  you  do  not  understand. 
(You  know  perfectly  well  what  I  am  asking. 

Father  Vasily. 
But,  pardon  me  — 

Alexandra. 
I  ask  you  what  this  creed  is,  according  to  which 
you  must  shake  hands  with  all  peasants,   allow 
them  to  cut  down  your  forest,  give  them  money 
for  drink,  and  forsake  your  own  family. 


S2  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

Father  Vasily. 
I  do  not  know. 

Alexandra. 
He  says  it  is  the  Christian  teaching.     iYou  are  a 
priest  of  the  Orthodox  Church.     Therefore,  you 
ought  to  know   and  ought  to  say  whether  the 
Christian  teaching  encourages  stealing. 

Father  Vasily. 
ButI  — 

Alexandra. 
Otherwise,  why  do  you  call  yourself  a  priest, 
and  wear  long  hair  and  a  cassock? 

Father  Vasily. 
But  we  are  never  asked  such  things. 

Alexandra. 
Really?     Well  I  ask  you?     Yesterday  Nicholas 
Ivanovich  said  the  Gospel  command  is :  "  Give  to 
every  man  that  asks.'*     How  is  that  to  be  inter- 
preted? 

Father  Vasily. 
I  think  in  the  simplest  sense. 

Alexandra. 
I  do  not  think  so  at  all.     I  think  it  means,  as 
we  were  always  taught,  that  everybody  has  what 
God  has  given  him. 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  53 

Father  Vasily. 
Of  course,  but  still  — 

Alexandra. 
It  IS  quite  evident  that  you  are  on  his  side.  I 
was  told  you  were;  and  it  is  very  wrong  of  you,  I 
tell  you  quite  frankly.  If  it  were  some  school- 
mistress, or  some  boy  who  accepted  his  every  word 
—  but  you,  in  your  position,  ought  to  understand 
what  your  responsibilities  are. 

Father  Vasily. 
I  try  to. 

Alexandra. 
How  can  he  be  called  religious  when  he  does 
not  go  to  church,  and  does  not  recognise  the  sacra- 
ments? And  you,  instead  of  bringing  him  to 
reason,  read  Renan  with  him,  and  interpret  the 
Gospel  as  you  like. 

Father  Vasily. 
(agitated.)     I  cannot  answer.     I  am  —  I  am^— * 
amazed,  and  would  rather  not  say  anything. 

Alexandra. 
Oh  I  if  I  were  a  bishop  I  would  teach  you  to  read 
Renan  and  smoke  cigarettes. 

Peter. 
Stop,  for  Heaven's  sake  I     By  what  right — ? 


54  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

Alexandra. 
Please  don't  lecture  me.     I  am   sure   Father 
VasIIy  does  not  mind.     Well,  I  have  said  all  I  had 
to  say.     It  would  be  much  worse  if  I  had  any  ill- 
feeling.     Is  not  that  so  ? 

Father  Vasily. 
Pardon  me  if  I  have  expressed  myself  badly  — 
pardon  me.      (Awkward  silence.) 

(Enter  LuBA  and  LiSA.) 
(LuBA,  the  daughter  of  Marie 
IVANOVNA,  is  a  pretty,  energetic  girl 
of  twenty,  Lisa,  the  daughter  of 
Alexandra  Ivanovna,  is  older. 
Both  wear  shawls  oti  their  heads,  and 
carry  baskets  —  they  are  going  mush- 
rooming in  the  woods.  They  greet 
Alexandra  Ivanovna,  Peter  Se- 
MENOVICH,  and  the  priest,) 

LUBA. 

Where  is  mother? 

Alexandra. 
She  has  just  gone  to  nurse  the  baby. 

Peter. 
Mind  you  bring  back  plenty  of  mushrooms, 
A  village  girl  brought  some  beauties  this  morning. 
I  would  go  with  you,  but  it  is  so  hot. 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  S5 

Lisa. 
Do  come,  father. 

Alexandra. 
lYes,  do  go.     You  are  getting  too  fat. 

Peter. 
iVery  well.     But  I  must  get  some  cigarettes. 

(Exit,) 

Alexandra. 
Where  are  all  the  other  young  people  ? 

LUBA. 
Stephen  has  gone  to  the  station  on  his  bicycle; 
Metrofan  Alexandrovich  has  gone  to  town  with 
father;  the  little  ones  are  playing  croquet;  and 
Vania  is  romping  with  the  dogs  In  the  porch. 

Alexandra. 
Has  Stephen  come  to  any  decision? 

LUBA. 

Yes,  he  is  going  to  enlist  as  a  volunteer.     He 
was  horribly  rude  to  father  yesterday. 

Alexandra. 
Well,  he  has  a  good  deal  to  bear.     Even  a 
worm  will  turn.     The  boy  wants  to  begin  life,  and 
he  is  told  to  go  and  plough. 


S6  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

LUBA. 

Father  did  not  say  that.     He  said     .     .     . 

Alexandra. 

It  makes  no  difference.  The  boy  must  make  a 
start,  and  whatever  he  proposes  Is  found  fault 
with.     Oh,  there  he  is  I 

{Enter  Stephen  on  bicycle,) 

Alexandra. 

Talk  of  an  angel  and  you  hear  his  wings.  We 
were  just  speaking  of  you.  Luba  says  that  you 
did  not  speak  nicely  to  your  father  yesterday. 

Stephen. 

Not  at  all.  Nothing  particular  happened.  He 
expressed  his  opinion,  and  I  expressed  mine.  It 
is  not  my  fault  if  our  views  do  not  agree.  Luba; 
understands  nothing,  and  is  always  ready  to  critic 
else. 

Alexandra. 

What  did  you  decide? 

Stephen. 

I  don't  know  what  father  decided.  I'm  afraid 
he  does  not  know  himself;  but  I  have  made  up  my 
mind  to  join  the  Horse  Guards  as  a  volunteer. 
It  is  only  In  our  house  that  difficulties  are  raised 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  57 

about  everything.  It  is  quite  simple.  I  have 
finished  my  studies ;  I  have  got  to  do  my  military 
service.  It  would  be  unpleasant  to  serve  In  the 
army  with  coarse,  drunken  officers,  so  I  shall  join 
the  Guards,  where  I  have  friends. 

Alexandra. 
Why  did  your  father  object? 

Stephen. 
Father?  Oh,  what's  the  good  of  talking  about 
him.  He  is  Infatuated  with  his  idee  fixe,  and  sees 
only  what  he  wants  to  see.  He  says  that  the 
military  Is  the  most  dastardly  of  all  the  services, 
therefore  I  ought  not  to  serve,  and  therefore  he 
gives  me  no  money. 

Lisa. 

No,  Stephen,  that  was  not  what  he  said.  I  was 
there.  He  said  that  If  It  Is  Impossible  to  get  out 
of  it,  one  should  at  least  wait  till  one  Is  called  as 
a  recruit,  but  that  to  volunteer  is  to  choose  that 
service  oneself. 

Stephen. 
It  is  I,  not  he,  who  will  serve.     He  was  an 
officer  himself. 

Lisa. 
He  did  not  say  that  he  would  not  give  you 


58  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

money,  but  that  he  could  not  participate  in  a 
matter  that  was  contrary  to  all  his  principles. 

Stephen. 

Principles  have  nothing  to  do  with  it.  I've  got 
to  serve,  and  there's  an  end  of  it. 

Lisa. 

I  only  said  what  I  heard. 
Stephen. 

I  know.  You  agree  with  father  in  everything. 
Auntie,  did  you  know  that?  Lisa  is  always  on 
father's  side. 

Lisa. 
When  It  is  a  question  of  justice. 

Alexandra. 

Oh,  I  know  Lisa  is  always  on  the  side  of  non- 
sense. She  has  a  knack  of  finding  it.  She  scents 
it  from  afar. 

(Enter  Vania.  He  runs  on  to 
the  veranda  in  a  red  blouse,  accom- 
panied by  the  dogs,  with  a  telegram 
in  his  hand.) 

Vania. 
{to  LuBA.)      Guess  who  is  coming! 


■m 


I  SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  59 

LUBA. 

Why  should  I  guess?  Give  me  the  telegram. 
(Stretches  out  her  hand  for  it,  Vania  holds  it 
out  of  her  reach,) 

Vania. 
I  won't  give  It  to  you,  and  I  won't  tell  you.     It 
[is  some  one  who  will  make  you  blush. 

LUBA. 

Nonsense!     Who  is  it  from? 

Vania. 
Aha!     You    are    blushing,    you    are!     Aunt 
Aline,  isn't  it  true  that  she's  blushing? 

LuBA. 
What  nonsense  I     Aunt  Aline,  who  is  it  from  ? 

Alexandra. 
The  Cheremshanovs. 

LUBA. 

Ohf 

Vania. 
I     "Ohl"  indeed.     Why  are  you  blushing? 

LUBA. 

Auntie,  show  me  the  telegram.  (Reads.) 
"Arrive  by  mail  train;  all  three. —  Cheremsha- 


6o  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

novs."     That    means    the    princess,    Boris,    and 
Tonla.    Well,  I  am  very  glad. 

Vania. 

Of  course  you  are  very  glad.  Stephen,  see 
how  she's  blushing. 

Stephen. 

Oh,  drop  It.  You  keep  on  saying  the  same 
thing  over  and  over  again. 

Vania. 

You  say  that  because  youVe  a  bit  smitten  by 
Tonia  yourself.  You'll  have  to  draw  lots,  be- 
cause sister  and  brother  may  not  marry  brother 
and  sister. 

Stephen. 

Don't  talk  such  rubbish.  You'd  better  be 
careful.     I've  warned  you  several  times. 

Lisa. 

If  they  come  by  the  mail  train  they  ought  to 
be  here  directly. 

Luba. 

That's  true.     Then  we  had  better  not  go  out. 
{Enter  Peter  Semenovich  with 
cigarettes.) 


t 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  6i 

LUBA. 

Uncle  Peter,  we  are  not  going. 

Peter. 
Why? 

LUBA. 

The  Cheremshanovs  will  be  here  directly.  We 
had  better  have  one  set  at  tennis  before  they  ar- 
rive.    Stephen,  will  you  play? 

Stephen. 

All  right. 

LUBA. 

Vania  and  I  against  you  and  Lisa.  Agreed? 
Well,  then,  I'll  go  and  get  the  balls  and  call  the 
village  children.      (Exit,) 

Peter. 
So  much  for  my  walk. 

Father  Vasily. 
(rising  to  go,)     Good-bye. 

Alexandra. 

Oh,  wait  a  little,  Father  Vasily.  I  want  to 
talk  to  you,  and  Nicholas  Ivanovich  will  soon  be 
here. 


62  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

Father  Vasily. 

(sits  down   and  lights  another  cigarette.)     He 
may  be  some  time  yet. 

Alexandra. 
A  carriage  has  just  driven  up;  I  expect  it  is 
he. 

Peter. 
Which    Princess   Cheremshanov   is   It?     Is    it 
possible  that  her  maiden  name  was  Golitsine? 

Alexandra. 
Yes,  yes,  that  nice  Princess  Cheremshanov  who 
lived  in  Rome  with  her  aunt. 

Peter. 
I  shall  be  glad  to  see  her.     I  have  not  seen  her 
since  the  time  when  we  used  to  sing  duets  to- 
gether In  Rome.     She  sang  very  well.     She  has 
two  children,  I  believe. 

Alexandra. 
Yes,  and  they  are  both  coming  with  her. 

Peter. 
I  did  not  know  they  were  so  intimate  with  the 
Sarlntsevs. 

Alexandra. 
They  are  not  Intimate;  but  they  were  abroad 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  63 

together  last  year,  and  I  believe  that  the  princess 
has  designs  on  Luba  for  her  son.  She  knows  a 
thing  or  two. 

Peter. 
The  Cheremsh^novs  were  rich  themselves. 

ll  Alexandra. 

They  were.  The  prince  is  still  alive,  but  he 
has  dissipated  his  fortune,  and  has  taken  to  drink. 
She  petitioned  the  Tsar,  saved  a  few  crumbs,  and 
left  him.  But  she  brought  up  her  children  splen- 
didly. The  daughter  Is  an  excellent  musician, 
and  the  son  went  through  the  university,  and  Is 
very  nice.  Still  I  do  not  think  Masha  Is  par- 
ticularly pleased.  This  is  not  a  time  for  guests. 
Ah,  there  is  Nicholas. 

{Enter  Nicholas  Ivanovich.) 

Nicholas. 

Good  morning.  Aline.  Hallo!  Peter  Seme- 
nov.  {To  the  priest.)  How  do  you  do,  Vaslly 
Ermllovlch.      {He  shakes  hands.) 

Alexandra. 

There  is  some  coffee  here.  Shall  I  pour  it  out? 
It  Is  not  very  hot,  but  It  can  be  warmed  up.  {She 
rings.) 


64  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

Nicholas. 
No,     thank    you.     I     have     had    breakfast. 
Where  is  Masha? 

Alexandra. 
She  is  nursing  the  baby. 

Nicholas. 
Is  she  well? 

Alexandra. 

Pretty  well.  Have  you  done  all  your  busi- 
ness? 

Nicholas. 

Yes.  I  think  I  will  have  some  tea  or  some 
coffee  if  there  is  any.  {To  the  priest.)  Have 
you  brought  the  book?  Have  you  read  it?  I 
have  been  thinking  about  you  all  the  way. 

{Enter  footman;   bows.     NICHO- 
LAS shakes  hands  with  him,) 

Alexandra. 

(shrugging  her  shoulders,  and  exchanging  glances 
with  her  husband.)  Heat  up  the  samovar, 
please. 

Nicholas. 

Never  mind,  Aline.  I  do  not  want  anything, 
and  if  I  do,  I  can  drink  it  as  it  is. 


I  SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  6s 

MiSSIE. 
'{seeing  her  father,  runs  from  the  croquet  ground, 
and  clasps  her  arms  around  his  neck.)      Father, 
come  along. 

Nicholas. 
{fondling     her.)      Directly,     directly.     Let     me 
have  something  to  drink.     Go  and  play.     I  will 
come  soon.      {Sits  down  at  the  table,  drinks  tea, 
and  eats.) 

Alexandra. 
Were  they  found  guilty? 

Nicholas. 
Yes.     They  pleaded  guilty.      {To  the  priest.) 
I  imagine  Renan  did  not  convince  you. 

Alexandra. 

But  you  disagreed  with  the  verdict? 

Nicholas. 

{annoyed.)      Of    course    I    did.      {To    priest.) 
The  main  question  for  you  lies,  not  In  the  divinity 
I  of  Christ,  not  In  the  history  of  Christianity,  but  In 
the  Church     .     .     . 

Alexandra. 

How  was  that?  They  confessed  themselves: 
you  gave  them  the  He.  They  were  not  stealing, 
only  taking     .     .     . 


66  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

Nicholas. 
{begins  speaking  to  the  priest,  then  turning  decid- 
edly   to    Alexandra    Ivanovna.)     My    dear 
Aline,  do  not  worry  me  with  innuendos  and  pin- 
pricks. 

Alexandra. 
I  am  not  doing  anything  of  the  sort. 

Nicholas. 
If  you    really  want   to   know  why   I   cannot 
prosecute    the   peasants    for    cutting   down   some 
trees  which  they  badly  needed.     .     .     • 

Alexandra. 
I  dare  say  they  need  this  samovar  also. 

Nicholas. 
Well,  if  you  want  me  to  tell  you  why  I  cannot 
allow  men  to  be  imprisoned  for  felling  ten  trees 
in  a  wood  that  is  considered  mine.     .     .     , 

Alexandra. 
Considered  so  by  every  one. 

Peter. 
There  you  are,  arguing  again.     I  shall  go  out 
with  the  dogs.      (He  leaves  the  veranda.) 

Nicholas. 
Even  supposing  I  were  to  consider  that  wood 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  67 

mine  —  though  that  is  impossible  —  we  have 
2,250  acres  of  forest,  with  approximately  200 
trees  on  each  —  I  think  that  makes  about  450,000 
in  all.  They  felled  10  —  that  is  ^~-q  part. 
Well,  is  it  worth  while,  is  it  possible,  to  drag  a 
man  away  from  his  family  and  put  him  in  prison 
for  such  a  thing? 

Stephen. 
Well,  if  you  don't  prosecute  for  this  ^g^'^^part, 
the  rest  of  the  45,000  will  also  soon  be  felled. 

Nicholas. 
I  only  gave  that  answer  in  reply  to  your  aunt. 
In  reality,  I  have  no  right  to  this  forest.  The 
land  belongs  to  all  —  that  is,  to  no  individual  — 
and  we  personally  have  never  done  a  stroke  of 
Work  on  it. 

Stephen. 
Oh,  no !     You  saved  up,  and  you  looked  after 
the  land. 

Nicholas. 
How  did  I  get  enough  to  save  up,  and  when 
did   I   ever  look   after   the   forest  myself?     But 
there !  you  can't  prove  such  things  to  a  man  who 
feels  no  shame  in  injuring  others. 

Stephen. 
No  one  is  injuring  others. 


68  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

Nicholas. 

If  he  IS  not  ashamed  of  being  Idle  —  of  living 
on  the  labour  of  others  —  it  cannot  be  proved, 
and  dl  the  political  economy  you  learnt  at  the 
university  only  serves  to  justify  your  position. 

Stephen. 
On  the  contrary,  science  destroys  all  prejudices. 

Nicholas. 

Well,  that  does  not  matter.  What  does  matter 
to  me  is  the  fact  that  if  I  were  in  Ephim's  place, 
I  should  do  just  what  he  did;  and  having  done  It 
I  should  be  In  despair  if  I  were  imprisoned,  and 
therefore,  since  I  would  do  unto  others  as  I  would 
be  done  by^  I  cannot  prosecute  him,  and  must  do 
my  best  to  get  him  off. 

Peter. 
But,  in  that  case,  it  Is  not  possible  to 
own  anything. 

V,  Alexandra. 

'S        Then  It  Is  much  more  profitable  to  steal 
^  than  to  work. 

Stephen. 
You  never  answer  one's  arguments.     I 
say  that  he  who  economises  has  a  right  to 
use  his  savings. 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  69 

Nicholas. 
(smiling.)      I    do    not   know   which    of   you   to 
answer,     (to  Peter.)     It  Is  not  possible  to  own 
anything.  ^ 

Alexandra. 
If  that  IS  so,  one  cannot  have  clothes  or  a  crust 
of  bread.     One  must  give  up  everything,  and  life 
becomes  Impossible. 

Nicholas. 
It  IS  Impossible  to  live  as  we  live. 

Stephen. 
Then  we  must  die.     Therefore  that  teaching  Is 
no  good  for  life. 

Nicholas. 
On  the  contrary,  It  Is  given  only  for  life.  Yes, 
we  must  relinquish  everything  —  not  only  a  for- 
est by  which  we  profit,  though  we  have  never 
seen  it,  but  we  should  give  up  our  clothes  and  our 
bread  even. 

Alexandra. 
And  the  children's  bread  also? 

Nicholas. 
Yes,  the  children's  also  —  and  not  bread  only 
—  we  must  give  up  ourselves.     That  Is  the  whole 
teaching  of  Christ.     We  must  use  all  our  efforts 
to  give  up  ourselves. 


70  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

Stephen. 
To  die,  therefore? 

Nicholas. 
Yes,  if  you  die  for  others  It  would  be  good 
both  for  yourself  and  for  others ;  but  the  fact  re- 
mains that  man  is  not  simply  a  spirit,  but  a  spirit 
In  the  flesh;  and  the  flesh  impels  us  to  live  for 
self,  while  the  enlightened  spirit  urges  us  to  live 
for  God,  for  others;  and  the  result  of  this  con- 
flict makes  us  take  a  middle  course.  The  nearer 
we  attain  to  God  the  better.  Therefore  the  more 
we  try  to  live  for  God  the  better.  The  flesh  will 
make  sufficient  efforts  on  its  own  account. 

Stephen. 
Why  take  a  middle  course?     If  such  a  life  Is 
best,  then  one  should  give  up  everything  and  die. 

Nicholas. 
It  would  be  splendid.     Try  to  do  It,  and  you 
will  find  it  good  for  you  as  well  as  for  others. 

Alexandra. 
No,  all  this  Is  neither  clear  nor  simple.     If  Is 
dragged  In  by  the  hair. 

Nicholas. 
What  am  I  to  do?     I  cannot  make  you  under- 
stand.    Enough  of  this  I 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  71 

Stephen. 
Enough,     indeed!     I     do     not     understand. 
(Exit.) 

Nicholas. 

{to  the  priest.)     Well,  what  did  you  think  of  the 
book? 

Father  Vasily. 
(agitated.)  I  hardly  know  what  to  say.  The 
historical  side  is  sufficiently  studied,  but  it  is  hardly 
convincingly  or  satisfactorily  proved  —  perhaps 
because  the  data  are  insufficient.  You  cannot 
prove  the  divinity  or  non-divinity  of  Christ  his- 
torically. There  Is  only  one  unanswerable 
proof.     .     .     . 

(During  the  conversation  all,  one 
after  the  other,  leave  the  room* — * 
■first  the  ladies,  then  Stephen,  and 
finally  Peter  Semenovich,  leaving 
the  priest  and  Nicholas  alone.) 

Nicholas. 
You  mean  the  Church  ? 

Father  Vasily. 
Yes,  of  course,  the  Church;  the  testimony  of 
men  —  well,  of  truly  holy  men,  shall  we  say? 

Nicholas. 
It  would  certainly  be  excellent  if  such  an  Infal- 
lible authority  existed  which  we  could  trust,  and 


72  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

It  IS  desirable  that  it  should  exist.     But  Its  de- 
sirability is  no  proof  that  it  does  exist. 

Father  Vasily. 

I  contend  that  it  does  prove  it.  God  could  not, 
as  It  were,  let  His  law  be  distorted,  be  badly  in- 
terpreted ;  and  He  had  to  institute  a  —  well  —  a 
custodian  of  His  truths.  He  had  to,  hadn't  He, 
to  prevent  the  distortion  of  these  truths? 

Nicholas. 

Very  well;  but  you  set  out  to  prove  the  truths 
themselves,  and  now  you  are  proving  the  truth  of 
the  custodians. 

Father  Vasily. 

Well,  in  regard  to  that,  we  must,  so  to  speak, 
believe. 

Nicholas. 

Believe?  We  cannot  live  without  belief.  We 
must  believe,  but  not  what  others  tell  us;  only 
what  we  are  led  to  by  the  course  of  our  own 
thoughts,  our  own  reason  .  .  .  the  belief  in 
God,  in  the  true  life  everlasting. 

Father  Vasily. 

Reason  may  deceive  you  —  each  man  has  his 
own  — 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  73 

Nicholas. 
(warmly,)      That  is   horrible   blasphemy!     God 
has   given  us   one   holy  instrument  by  which   to 
know  the  truth  —  one  that  can  unite  us  all,  and 
we  distrust  it! 

I  Father  Vasily. 

But  how  can  we  trust  it  when  there  Is  so  much 
difference  of  opinion  —  isn't  there  ? 

Nicholas. 
Where  Is  there  any  difference  of  opinion  as  to 
two  and  two  making  four;  as  to  our  not  doing  to 
others  whart  we  do  not  wish  to  be  done  to  our- 
selves; as  to  there  being  a  cause  for  everything; 
and  such  truths  as  these?  We  all  recognise  these 
truths  because  they  are  In  accordance  with  our 
reason.  As  to  such  questions  as  what  God  re- 
vealed to  Moses  on  Mount  Sinai,  whether  or  not 
Buddha  flew  away  on  a  sunbeam,  or  whether  Mo- 
hammed and  Christ  flew  up  to  heaven  —  and 
things  of  that  sort  —  we  all  disagree. 

Father  Vasily. 
No,  we  do  not  all  disagree.     All  who  have  the 
truth  are  united  in  one  faith  In  the  God  Christ. 

Nicholas. 
You  are  not  united  then  because  you  all  differ, 


74  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

so  why  should  I  believe  you  rather  than  a  Bud- 
dhist lama?  Simply  because  I  happened  to  be 
born  in  your  faith? 

(Sounds  of  dispute  from  the  tert' 
nis-court.  ''  Out.''  "  No,  it  was 
notr     ''I  saw  it  J' 

During  the  conversation  the  FooT- 
MAN  rearranges  the  table,  bringing  in 
fresh  tea  and  coffee.) 

Nicholas. 

{continuing.)  You  say  the  Church  gives  union. 
But,  on  the  contrary,  the  worst  differences  were 
always  caused  by  the  Church.  "  How  often 
would  I  have  gathered  Thy  children  together, 
even  as  a  hen  gathereth  her  chickens  under  her 
wings." 

Father  Vasily. 
It  was  so  before  Christ.     Christ  united  all. 

Nicholas. 

Christ  united  us  all,  but  we  became  disunited 
because  we  understood  Him  wrongly.  He  de- 
stroyed all  Churches. 

Father  Vasily. 
Then  what  does  "  tell  the  Church  "  mean? 


||  SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  75 

Nicholas. 
It  IS  not  a  question  of  words,  nor  do  these 
words  apply  to  the  Church.  The  whole  thing  is 
the  spirit  of  the  teaching.  Christ's  teaching  is 
universal,  and  contains  all  beliefs,  and  does  not 
contain  anything  that  is  exclusive  — -  neither  the 
resurrection,  nor  the  divinity  of  Christ,  nor  the 
sacraments  —  indeed,  nothing  that  can  disunite. 

Father  Vastly. 
Well,  that  IS  your  interpretation  of  the  Chris- 
tian teaching;  but  the   Christian  teaching  is  en- 
tirely founded  on  the  divinity  of  Christ  and  His 
resurrection. 

Nicholas. 
That  is  why  Churches  are  so  horrible.  They 
disunite  by  declaring  that  they  possess  the  full, 
certain,  and  infallible  truth  — "  filling  us  with  the 
Holy  Ghost."  It  began  with  the  first  meeting  of 
the  apostles.  From  that  moment  they  began  to 
affirm  that  they  were  possessed  of  full  and  exclu' 
sive  truth.  Why,  if  I  say  that  there  is  a  God, 
that  the  world  began,  all  will  agree  with  me,  and 
this  recognition  of  God  will  unite  us;  but  if  I  say 
there  Is  a  god  Brahma,  or  a  Jewish  god,  or  a 
Trinity  —  such  a  divinity  disunites.  Men  want 
to  unite  and  invent  a  means  to  that  end,  but  they 
disregard  the  only  certain  means  of  union  —  an 


76  THE  LIGHT  THAT  | 

aspiration  after  truth.  It  is  as  If  In  a  great  build- 
ing, where  the  light  falls  from  the  roof  on  to  the 
middle  of  the  floor,  men  were  to  stand  in  groups 
in  the  corners  Instead  of  going  into  the  light.  If. 
they  went  Into  the  light  they  would,  without  think- 
ing about  It,  be  united. 

Father  Vasily. 

But  how  would  you  guide  the  people  without 
having,  so  to  speak,  a  fixed  truth  ? 

Nicholas. 
That  Is  the  horror  of  it.  Each  of  us  has  his 
own  soul  to  save,  has  God's  work  to  do,  and  we 
are  all  anxious  about  saving  and  teaching  others. 
And  what  do  we  teach  them?  It  Is  simply  hor- 
rible to  think  that  at  the  end  of  the  nineteenth 
century  we  are  teaching  that  God  created  the 
world  in  six  days,  then  sent  a  flood,  putting  all  the 
animals  into  the  Ark,  and  all  the  absurd  nonsense 
of  the  Old  Testament;  and  then  that  Christ  or- 
dered us  to  be  baptised  in  water,  or  the  absurdity 
of  the  redemption  without  which  you  cannot  be 
saved;  then  that  Christ  flew  away  to  skies  which 
do  not  exist,  and  there  sits  at  the  right  hand  of 
God  the  Father.  We  are  accustomed  to  all  this, 
but  really  It  is  terrible.  A  pure  child,  open  to 
good  and  truth,  asks  us  what  the  world  is,  what  its 
law  is,  and  instead  of  teaching  him  the  love  and 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  77 

truth  which  we  have  believed,  we  carefully  stuff 
his  head  with  all  sorts  of  dreadful,  absurd  lies 
and  horrors,  ascribing  them  all  to  God.  This  Is 
awful.  It  IS  a  crime  that  nothing  can  surpass. 
And  we,  and  you  with  your  Church,  do  all  this. 
Forgive  me. 

Father  Vasily. 
Yes,  if  you  look  at  Christ's  teaching  In  that 
way  — ■  rationally,  so  to  speak  ^^ —  then  It  Is  so. 

Nicholas. 
It  Is  the  same,  no  matter  In  what  way  you  look 
at  it. 

(Silence.     The  Priest  takes  leave 
of  him.    Enter  Alexandra  Ivan- 

OVNA.) 

Alexandra. 
Good-bye,   Father  Yaslly.     Do  not  listen  to 
him ;  he  will  lead  you  astray. 

Father  Vasily. 
Oh  no !     One  must  put  the  Gospel  to  the  test. 
It  is  too  important  a  matter  to  be  neglected,  isn't 
It? 

{Exit.) 

Alexandra. 
Really,   Nicholas,  you  have  no  pity  on  him. 
Though  he  Is  a  priest,  he  is  little  more  than  a 


178  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

boy.     He  cannot  have  settled  convictions ;  he  can- 
not be  steadfast.     .     .     , 

Nicholas. 
Are  we  to  let  him  become  confirmed  in  them, 
to  harden  In  deceit?     Why  should  we?     Ah,  he 
is  a  good,  sincere  man. 

Alexandra. 
Well,  what  would  happen  to  him  were  he  to 
believe  you? 

Nicholas. 
It  is  not  a  question  of  believing  me;  but  if  he 
could  see  the  truth  it  would  be  well  for  him  and 
for  every  one. 

Alexandra. 
If  It  were  really  well,  all  would  believe  you. 
As  It  Is,  we  see  just  the  contrary.     No  one  be- 
lieves you  —  your  wife  least  of  all.     She  cannot 
believe  you. 

Nicholas. 
Who  told  you  so? 

Alexandra. 
Well,  explain  all  this  to  Masha.  She  never 
understood  and  never  will,  and  no  one  in  the 
world  ever  will,  understand  why  you  should  take 
care  of  strangers  and  neglect  your  own  children. 
Explain  that  to  Masha. 


I  SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  79 

Nicholas. 
Masha   is   sure   to  understand.     Forgive  me, 
Aline,  but  if  it  were  not  for  outside  influences,  to 
which  she  is  so  susceptible,  she  would  understand 
me  and  go  hand-in-hand  with  me. 

Alexandra. 
To  deprive  her  own  children  for  the  drunken 
Ephim   and   Co.?     Never.     As   for  your   being 
angry  with  me,  you  will  excuse  me,  but  I  cannot 
help  speaking.     ... 

Nicholas. 
I  am  not  angry.  On  the  contrary,  I  am  very 
glad  that  you  said  all  you  had  to  say,  and  gave 
me  the  opportunity  of  giving  all  my  own  views. 
I  thought  it  over  on  my  way  to-day,  and  I  am  go- 
ing to  tell  her  at  once,  and  you  will  see  that  she 
will  agree,  for  she  is  both  wise  and  good. 

Alexandra. 
You  will  allow  me  to  have  my  doubts. 

Nicholas. 
Well,  I  have  none.     This  is  no  invention  of 
mine:  it  is  what  we  all  know,  and  what  Christ 
revealed  to  us. 

Alexandra. 
You    think   He    revealed    this?     I    think    He 
revealed  something  quite  different. 


8o  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

Nicholas. 
There  can  be   nothing  different.     Just  listen. 
Do  not  argue;  listen  to  me. 

Alexandra. 
I  am  listening. 

Nicholas. 
You  admit  that  at  any  minute  we  may  die  and 
return  to  nothingness  or  to  God,  who  demands 
that  we  should  live  according  to  His  will. 

Alexandra. 
Well? 

Nicholas. 
Well,  what  else  am  I  to  do  in  this  life  but  that 
which  the  highest  Judge  that  is  in  my  soul  —  my 
conscience,  God  —  demands  ?  My  conscience, 
God,  demands  that  I  should  consider  all  men 
equal,  should  love  and  serve  all. 

Alexandra. 
Your  children  among  the  rest. 

Nicholas. 
Of  course;  but  I  must  do  everything  my  con- 
science dictates.  The  most  important  thing  of  all 
is  to  recognise  that  my  life  does  not  belong  to  me, 
nor  yours  to  you,  but  to  God,  who  sent  us  and 
requires  us  to  live  according  to  His  will.  And 
His  will     ... 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  8i 

Alexandra. 
And  you  will  convince  Masha  of  this? 

Nicholas. 
Certainly. 

Alexandra. 
She  will  cease  to  educate  her  children  as  she 
should  and  will  desert  them?     Never. 

Nicholas. 
Not  only  she;  you  too  will  understand  that  that 
Is  the  only  thing  to  do. 

Alexandra. 
Never  I 

{Enter  Marie  Ivanovna.)" 

Nicholas. 
Well,  Masha,  I  hope  I  did  not  wake  you  up 
this  morning. 

Marie. 
No,  I  was  not  asleep.     Did  you  have  a  pleasant 
journey? 

Nicholas. 
Yes,  very  pleasant. 

Marie. 
Why  are  you  drinking  that  cold  tea  ?     Anyhow, 
we  must  have  some  fresh  made  for  our  guests. 
You  know  that  Princess  Cheremshanova  is  com- 
ing with  her  son  and  daughter. 


82  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

Nicholas. 
If  you  are  pleased,  so  am  L 

Marie. 

Yes.     I  am  very  fond  of  her  and  of  her  chil- 
dren, but  it  is  hardly  the  moment  for  visitors. 

Alexandra. 

Well,  have  a  talk  with  him,  and  I  will  go  and 
watch  the  game. 

{A  silence,  after  which  Marie 
IvANovNA  and  Nicholas  Ivano- 
yiCH  both  speak  at  once,) 

Marie. 
It  is  hardly  the  moment,  because  we  must 
talk  things  over. 

Nicholas. 
I  was  just  telling  Aline.     .     s     » 

Marie. 
What? 

Nicholas. 
No ;  you  speak. 

Marie. 

Well,  I  wanted  to  talk  to  you  about  Stephen. 
Something  must  be  decided.     The  poor  boy  is  in 


o 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  83 

suspense,  does  not  know  what  is  going  to  happen, 
and  comes  to  me;  but  how  can  I  decide? 

Nicholas. 

How  can  any  one  decide?  He  can  decide  for 
himself. 

Marie. 

Why,  you  know  he  wants  to  enter  the  Guards 
as  a  volunteer,  and  he  cannot  do  it  without  a  cer- 
tificate from  you,  and  he  must  have  money,  and 
you  give  him  nothing  (agitated.) 

Nicholas. 

Masha,  for  heaven's  sake  do  not  get  agitated, 
and  listen  to  me.  I  neither  give  nor  refuse.  To 
enter  the  military  service  voluntarily  I  consider 
foolish  madness,  such  as  only  a  savage  is  capable 
of.  If  he  does  not  understand  the  meanness,  the 
baseness  of  such  an  action,  or  if  he  does  it  out  of 
self-interest  — 

Marie. 

Oh,  everything  seems  mad  and  foolish  to  you 
now.     He  wants  to  live  —  you  have  lived. 

Nicholas. 

(hotly,)  I  lived  without  understanding,  with  no 
one  to  tell  me.  But  it  depends  on  him  now  — 
not  on  me. 


84  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

Marie. 
But  it  does  depend  on  you,  when  you  give  him 
no  money. 

Nicholas. 
I  cannot  give  what  does  not  belong  to  mc. 

Marie. 
What  do  you  mean  by  "  does  not  belong  to 
mc"[2 

Nicholas. 
The  labour  of  others  does  not  belong  to  me. 
To  give  him  money,  I  must  take  from  others. 
I  have  no  right  to;  I  cannot.  So  long  as  I  am 
the  master  of  the  estate  I  cannot  dispose  of  it 
otherwise  than  as  my  conscience  dictates.  I  can- 
not spend  the  labour  of  peasants,  which  costs  them 
their  whole  strength,  on  the  drinking-bouts  of  a 
hussar.  Take  the  estate  from  me;  then  I  shall 
not  be  responsible. 

Marie. 
You  know  I  do  not  want  that,  and  I  cannot  do 
It.     I  have  to  educate  the  children,  to  nurse  them, 
to  bring  them  into  the  world.     It  is  cruel. 

Nicholas. 

Dearest  Masha,  that  is  not  the  point.     When 
you  began  to  speak,  I  began  also,  and  I  wanted  so 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  85 

to  talk  frankly  to  you.  All  this  is  impossible. 
We  live  together,  and  do  not  understand  each 
other;  sometimes  it  seems  as  though  we  misunder- 
stood each  othe.  on  purpose. 

Marie. 

I  want  to  understand  you,  but  I  cannot.  I  can- 
not understand  what  has  come  over  you. 

Nicholas. 

Then  try  to  understand  now.  It  Is  hardly  the 
moment,  but  heaven  knows  when  there  will  be 
a  moment.  Try  to  understand  not  only  me,  but 
yourself  and  your  own  life.  We  cannot  go  on 
living  without  knowing  what  we  live  for. 

Marie. 

We  lived  so  before,  and  we  lived  very  well 
(noting  an  expression  of  displeasure  on  his  face.) 
' —  All  right;  I  am  listening. 

Nicholas. 

I  used  to  live  thus,  thus  —  that  is  to  say,  with- 
out thinking  why  I  lived ;  but  the  time  came  when 
I  was  aghast.  We  live  on  the  labour  of  others, 
we  make  others  work  for  us,  we  bring  children 
into  the  world,  and  educate  them  for  the  same 
thing.     Old  age,   death,  will  come,   and  I  shall 


86  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

ask  myself:  '*  What  did  I  live  for?  To  produce 
parasites  like  myself?"  Besides,  this  life  is  not 
even  amusing.  It  is  only  tolerable  when  one  is 
overflowing  with  the  energy  of  life,  like  Vania. 

Marie. 
Every  one  lives  like  that. 

Nicholas. 
And  every  one  Is  unhappy. 

Marie. 
Not  at  all. 

Nicholas. 

I,  at  least,  discovered  that  I  was  terribly  un- 
happy, and  that  I  was  causing  you  and  the  children 
to  be  unhappy,  and  I  asked  myself:  "  Is  it  possible 
that  God  created  you  for  this?  "  And  directly  I 
thought  that,  I  felt  that  the  answer  was  *'  No." 
Then  I  asked  myself :  "  What  did  God  create  us 
for?" 

(A  footman  enters.  Marie 
IVANOVNA  does  not  listen  to  her  huS' 
band,  but  speaks  to  the  footman,)^ 

Marie. 
Bring  some  hot  milk. 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  87 

Nicholas. 

I  found  the  answer  In  the  Gospel:  we  do  not 
live  for  ourselves  at  all.  It  was  revealed  to  me 
clearly  ©nee  when  I  was  thinking  over  the  parable 
of  the  labourers  in  the  vineyard.  Do  you  remem- 
ber it? 

Marie. 

Yes ;  I  know  the  labourers. 

Nicholas. 

Somehow  or  other  that  parable  showed  me  my 
mistake  more  clearly  than  anything.  I  had  be- 
lieved that  my  life  was  my  own  just  as  those  la- 
bourers believed  that  the  vineyard  was  theirs,  and 
everything  was  terrible  to  me.  But  as  soon  as  I 
\  realised  that  my  life  was  not  my  own,  that  I  was 
sent  into  the  world  to  do  the  work  of  God  — ? 

Marie. 
What  of  that?     iWe  all  know  that. 

Nicholas. 

Well,  If  we  know  It,  we  cannot  continue  to  live 
as  we  do,  when  we  know^  our  whole  life  Is  not  a 
fulfilment  of  this  will,  but,  on  the  contrary,  Is  in 
perpetual  contradiction  to  it. 


88  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

Marie. 

In  what  way  is  It  a  contradiction  when  we  do 
no  harm  to  any  one? 

Nicholas. 

How  can  you  say  we  do  no  harm  to  any  one? 
That  is  exactly  the  conception  of  life  that  the 
labourers  In  the  vineyard  had.     Wc' — 

Marie. 

Oh,  yes;  I  know  the  parable.  Well,  what  of 
It?     He  gave  them  all  the  same  portion. 

Nicholas. 

{after  a  silence,)  No;  that  is  not  It.  But  think 
of  this,  Masha;  we  have  only  one  life,  and  It  Is 
in  our  power  to  live  it  devoutly  or  to  ruin  it 

Marie. 

I  cannot  think  and  discuss.  1  get  no  sleep  at 
night;  I  am  nursing  baby.  I  manage  the  whole 
household,  and  instead  of  helping  me  you  keep 
on  telling  me  things  I  do  not  understand. 

Nicholas. 
Masha  1 

Marie. 
And  now  these  visitors  are  arriving. 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  89 

Nicholas. 
But  we  will  talk  It  out  to  the  end,  shall  we  not? 
{He  kisses  her.)      Yes? 

Marie. 
Yes.     But  do  be  your  former  self. 

Nicholas. 

That  I  cannot.     But  listen  to  me  — 

{The  sound  of  approaching  car- 
riage hells  and  wheels  is  heard.) 

Marie. 

There  is  no  time  now  —  they  have  arrived.     I 
must  go  to  them. 

{Disappears  round  the  corner  of 
the  house,  followed  by  Stephen  and 
LuBA.  Alexandra  Ivanovna  and 
her  husband  and  LiSA  come  on  to  the 
veranda.  Nicholas  Ivanovich 
walks  about  in  deep  thought.) 

Vania. 

{jumping  over  a  bench.)     I  don't  give  in;  we'll 
finish  the  game !     Well,  Luba  ? 

LUBA. 

{seriously.)     No  nonsense,  please! 


90  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

Alexandra. 
Well,  have  you  convinced  her? 

Nicholas. 
Aline,  what  is  going  on  between  us  now  is  seri- 
ous, and  jokes  are  quite  out  of  place.  It  is  not  I 
who  am  convincing  her,  but  life,  truth,  God. 
Therefore  she  cannot  help  being  convinced  —  if 
not  to-day,  then  to-morrow;  if  not  to-morrow  — 
The  worst  of  it  all  is  that  no  one  ever  has  time. 
iWho  has  come? 

Peter. 

The  Cheremshanovs  —  Katia  Cheremshanova, 
whom  I  have  not  seen  for  eighteen  years.  The 
last  time  we  met  we  sang  together:  "  La  ei  darem 
la  mano."      {He  sings.) 

Alexandra. 
{to  her  husband.)  Please  do  not  interfere,  and 
do  not  imagine  that  I  have  quarrelled  with  Nicho- 
las. I  am  speaking  the  truth.  {To  Nicho- 
las.) I  was  not  joking  in  the  least,  but  it  seemed 
so  strange  that  you  wanted  to  convince  Masha  at 
the  very  moment  when  she  wanted  to  talk  matters 
over  with  you. 

Nicholas. 
Very  well,  very  well.     Here  they  are.     Please 
tell  Masha  that  I  am  in  my  room.      {Exit.) 


ACT  II 

Scene  I 

Same  place  in   the  country.     Time:   One  week 
later. 

{Scene  represents  large  drawing- 
room.  Table  is  laid  with  samovar, 
tea  and  cofee.  Piano  against  the 
wall,  music-rack. 

Marie  Ivanovna,  the  Princess, 
and  Peter  Semenovich  are  seated 
'at  the  table.) 

Peter. 
Yes,  Princess.     It  does  not  seem  so  long  ago 
%hat  you   used   to   sing  Rosine,   and   I     .     .     . 
Whereas  now  I  should  not  even  do  for  a  Don 
Basllio. 

Princess. 
Now  the  children  might  sing,  but  times  have 
altered. 

Peter. 
Yes,   they   are   posltlvlsts.     But   I   hear   your 
daughter  Is  a  very  serious  and  excellent  musician. 
Are  they  still  asleep  ? 

91 


92  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

Marie. 

Yes,  they  went  out  riding  by  moonlight  and 
returned  very  late.  I  was  nursing  baby  and  heard 
them. 

'Peter. 

And  when  does  my  better  half  return?  Have 
you  sent  the  carriage  for  her? 

Marie. 

Yes,  It  went  a  long  time  ago.  She  ought  to  be 
here  soon. 

Princess. 

Did  Alexandra  Ivanovna  really  go  with  the  sole 
purpose  of  fetching  Father  Gerasim? 

Marie. 
Yes,  the  thought  suddenly  struck  her  yesterday, 
and  she  flew  off  at  once. 

Princess. 
What  energy  I     I  admire  it. 

Peter. 

Oh,  as  to  that,  it  never  falls  us.  ( Takes  out  a 
cigar.)  Well,  I  think  I'll  take  a  turn  in  the  park 
with  the  dogs  and  smoke  while  the  young  people 
are  getting  up. 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  93 

Princess. 

I  don^t  know,  dear  Marie  Ivanovna,  but  I  really 
think  you  take  it  too  much  to  heart.  I  under- 
stand him.  He  is  full  of  such  high  aspiration. 
What  does  it  matter  if  he  does  give  his  property 
away  to  the  poor?  It's  only  too  true  that  we  all 
think  too  much  of  ourselves. 

Marie. 

Oh,  If  it  were  only  that.  But  you  don't  know 
him  • —  you  do  not  know  all.  It  is  not  only  help- 
ing the  poor.  It  is  a  complete  change  —  the 
utter  wrecking  of  everything. 

Princess. 

I  certainly  do  not  wish  to  Intrude  Into  your 
family  life,  but  If  you  would  allow  me     .     ,     . 

Marie. 

But  I  look  on  you  as  one  of  the  family,  espe- 
cially now. 

Princess. 

I  should  just  advise  you  to  put  your  demands 
plainly  before  him,  and  openly  come  to  some 
agreement  with  him  as  to  the  limits  — 

Marie. 
(agitated.)     There  are  no  limits  I     He  wishes  to 


94  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

give  everything  away.  He  wants  me  at  my  age  to 
become  a  cook  —  a  laundress. 

Princess. 

Oh,  impossible!     How  extraordinary  I 

Marie. 

(taking  out  a  letter.)  Now  we  are  quite  alone;  I 
should  like  to  tell  you  everything.  Yesterday  he 
wrote  me  this  letter.     I  will  read  it  to  you. 

Princess. 

What!  living  in  the  same  house  with  you,  he 
writes  you  letters  ?     How  strange  1 

Marie. 

Oh,  no.  I  quite  understand.  He  gets  so  ex- 
cited when  he  talks  I  have  been  feeling  anxious 
about  his  health  lately. 

Princess. 
Well,  what  does  he  write? 

Marie. 

Listen.  {She  reads.)  "  You  reproach  me  for 
destroying  our  former  life  without  offering  you 
anything  else  or  saying  how  I  intend  to  provide 
for  my  family.  When  we  begin  to  talk  we  both 
get  excited,  so  I  am  writing  instead.     I  have  told 


H  SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  95 

you  many  times  why  I  can't  go  on  living  as  I  have 
done.  And  as  for  trying  to  convince  you  that  it 
is  wrong  to  live  as  we  have  been  accustomed  to 
do,  that  we  must  lead  a  Christian  life,  I  cannot 
do  that  in  a  letter.  You  can  do  one  of  two  things 
. —  either  believe  in  truth  and  liberty  and  go 
with  me,  or  believe  in  me,  give  yourself  trustfully 
to  me,  and  follow  me."  {Stops  reading.)  But 
I  can  do  neither  of  these  things!  I  do  not  be- 
lieve that  I  ought  to  live  as  he  desires,  and  more- 
over I  love  the  children  and  I  cannot  trust  him. 
{Continues  to  read.)  "  My  plan  is  this.  We 
will  give  all  our  land  to  the  peasants,  leaving  our- 
selves fifty  acres  and  the  kitchen  garden  and  the 
flooded  meadow.  We  will  try  to  work,  but  we 
will  not  force  ourselves  or  our  children  to  work. 
What  we  reserve  for  ourselves  will  bring  in  about 
five  hundred  roubles  *  a  year." 

Princess. 

It  is  impossible  to  live  on  five  hundred  roubles 
a  year  with  seven  children. 

Marie. 

Well,  and  then  he  goes  on  to  say  that  we  will 
give  up  our  house  for  a  school  and  live  in  the 
gardener's  cottage,  in  two  rooms. 

*A  rouble  =  about  2s. 


96  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

Princess. 

Yes,  I  really  begin  to  think  that  he's  not  well. 
What  have  you  answered? 

Marie. 

I  told  him  I  could  not  agree  to  it  That,  were 
I  alone,  I  would  follow  him  anywhere.  But  with 
the  children  .  .  .  Just  think — I  am  nursing 
little  Nicholas.  I  told  him  It  was  impossible  to 
break  up  everything  like  that.  Was  this  what  I 
married  him  for?  I  am  already  old  and  feeble. 
It  Is  not  an  easy  matter  to  bring  nine  children  into 
the  world  and  nurse  them. 

Princess. 
I  never  dreamt  it  had  gone  so  far  I 

Marie. 

Well,  that  IS  how  matters  stand,  and  I  can't 
Imagine  what  will  become  of  us.  Yesterday  he 
remitted  the  entire  rent  of  the  peasants  from 
Dmitrovka,  and  he  intends  to  give  that  land  to 
them  outright. 

Princess. 

I  really  think  you  ought  not  to  permit  that.  It 
IS  our  duty  to  protect  our  children.  If  he  cannot 
own  his  estate  himself,  let  him  give  It  to  you. 


P  SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  97 

Marie. 
I  don't  want  it. 

Princess. 
But  it  is  your  duty  to  retain  it,  for  the  sake  of 
your  children.     Let  him  make  It  over  to  you. 

Marie. 
My  sister  suggested  that  to  him,  but  he  said  he 
had  no  right  to  dispose  of  it,  as  the  land  belonged 
to  those  who  tilled  it,  and  it  was  his  duty  to  give 
^  it  to  the  peasants. 

Princess. 

'      .Yes,  I  see  It  is  really  much  more  serious  than  I 
I  thought. 

Marie. 
And  fancy  I  our  priest  is  on  his  side. 
Princess. 

II  noticed  that  yesterday. 
Marie. 
Now  my  sister  has  gone  to  Moscow  to  consult  a 
lawyer,  and  above  all  to  bring  Father  Gerasim 
back  with  her  to  see  if  he  has  any  influence  with 
him. 

Princess. 
I  do  not  think  that  Christianity  consists  in  ruin- 
ing one's  own  family. 


98  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

Marie. 
But  he  will  not  trust  Father  Gerasim.  He  is 
too  far  confirmed  In  his  convictions,  and  you  know 
when  he  talks  I  can  find  no  arguments  to  use 
against  him.  The  worst  of  it  is  •^—  I  believe  he  is 
right. 

Princess. 
That  is  only  because  you  love  him. 

Marie. 
I  do  not  know  why,  but  it  is  dreadful,  dreadful. 
Everything  remains  unsettled.     That's  what  re- 
ligion does! 

(Enter  Nurse.) 

Nurse. 
Please,  ma'am,  the  baby  is  awake  and  wants 
you. 

Marie. 
I  will  come  in  a  moment.     I  am  worried,  and 
the  baby  has  colic,  you  see.     I  am  coming. 

XExit  Princess.) 
\From  the  other  side  enters  Nicho- 
las with  a  paper  in  his  hand.) 

Nicholas. 
It  Is  incredible  I 

Marie. 
What  Is  the  matter? 


J  SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  99 

Nicholas. 
The  matter  is  just  this,  that  for  a  pine  tree  of 
rs,  Peter  is  to  go  to  jail. 
Marie. 
But  why? 

Nicholas. 

I  Because  he  felled  it.  They  took  the  matter  to 
court,  and  he  is  sentenced  to  a  month's  imprison- 
ment.    His  wife  came  to  implore  me  r—n    » 

Marie. 

Well,  can't  you  help  her? 

Nicholas. 

I  cannot  now.     The  only  thing  to  do  is  not  to 
own  any  forest;  and  I  will  not!     I  will  just  go 
J   and  see  if  I  can  help  in  the  trouble  of  which  I  my- 
self have  been  the  cause. 

(Enter  LuBA  and  BORlS.)' 

LUBA. 

Good  morning,  father.  (Kisses  him,) 
Where  are  you  going? 

Nicholas. 

I  have  just  come  from  the  village  and  I'm  now 
on  my  way  back.  A  hungry  man  is  being  put  in 
jail  for  — 


loo  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

LUBA. 

It's  probably  Peter. 

Nicholas. 
Yes  —  Peter. 
{Exeunt  Nicholas  and  Marie  Ivanovna.) 

LUBA. 

{sitting  down  before  the  samovar,)     Will  you 
take  coffee  or  tea? 

Boris. 
I  do  not  care. 

LUBA. 

Things  are  just  as  they  were.     I  cannot  see  how 
it  will  end. 

Boris. 

I  do  not  quite  understand  him.     I  know  the 
peasants  are  poor  and  Ignorant,  that  it's  our  duty    ^ 
to  help  them.     But  not  by  showing  favour  to 
thieves. 

LuBA. 
But  how? 

Boris. 
By  everything  we  do.     We  must  dedicate  all 
our  knowledge  to  them,  but  we  cannot  give  up  our 
life. 

LUBA. 

Father  says  that  Ts  just  what  we  must  do. 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  loi 

Boris. 
I  do  not  see  why.     It  is  quite  possible  to  help 
the  people  without  ruining  one's  own  life,  and 
that  is  what  I   intend  doing  myself.     If  only 
you  — 

LUBA. 

Your  wishes  are  mine.  And  I  am  not  afraid 
of  anything. 

Boris. 
But  what  about  your  ear-rings,  and  your  dress  ? 

LUBA. 

The  ear-rings  we  can  sell,  and  as  for  the  frock, 
I  might  dress  differently  without  being  altogether 
ugly. 

Boris. 
I  want  to  have  another  talk  with  him.     Do  you 
-    think  I  should  be  in  his  way  if  I  went  to  the  vll- 
^    lage? 

LUBA. 

I'm  sure  you  wouldn't.  I  can  see  he  Is  very 
fond  of  you.  Yesterday  he  talked  to  you  nearly 
all  the  time. 

Boris. 

Then  I'll  go. 

LUBA. 
Yes,  do.     And  I'll  go  and  wake  up  Lisa  and 
Tonla. 

(Exit  on  different  sides.)] 


102  THE  LIGHT  THAT 


Scene  II 


Village  street.  The  peasant  IvAN  ZlABREV  is 
lying  on  the  ground  at  a  cottage  door,  with  a 
sheepskin  coat  over  him, 

Ivan. 

Malashka  I 

(From  behind  the  cottage  comes  a 
little  girl  with  a  baby  in  her  arms. 
The  baby  cries,) 
I  want  a  drink  of  water. 

(Malashka  goes  into  the  cottage. 
The  baby  is  heard  crying  still.     She 
brings  a  jug  of  water. ) 
Why  do  you  hit  the  baby  and  make  him  howl? 
I'll  tell  your  mother. 

Malashka. 
Do  tell  mother!     Baby's  howling  because  he's 
hungry. 

Ivan. 
{drinking.)     Why  don't  you  go  and  get  some 
milk  at  Demkin's? 

Malashka. 
I  have  been.     They  haven't  got  any,  and  there 
was  not  a  soul  at  home. 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  103 

Ivan. 
Oh,  I  wish  Death  would  come  quicker.     Has 
the  dinner  bell  rung? 

Malashka. 
{screaming  at  the  top  of  her  voice,)     Yes,  it  has 
rung  I     There's  the  master  coming  I 

{Enter  Nicholas.) 

Nicholas. 
Why  are  you  lying  out  here  ? 

Ivan. 
There  are  flies  there.     And  it's  too  hot. 

Nicholas. 
Have  you  got  warm  then? 

Ivan. 
I  feel  as  if  I  were  on  fire  now. 

Nicholas. 
Where  is  Peter?     At  home? 

Ivan. 
How  could  he  be,  at  this  hour?     He's  gone  to 
the  fields  to  bring  in  the  sheaves. 

Nicholas. 
I  was  told  he  had  been  arrested. 


104  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

Ivan. 

That's  quite  true.     The  policeman  has  gone  to 
the  field  after  him. 

(Enter  a  pregnant  Woman,  with 
a  sheaf  of  oats  and  a  pitchfork,  and 
immediately  hits  Malashka  over  the 
head.) 

Woman. 
Why  did  you  go  away  from  the  baby?     Do 
listen  to  him  screaming.     You  only  think  of  run- 
ning out  in  the  road. 

Malashka. 
{crying  loudly.)     I  just  came  out  to  give  father  a 
drink  of  water. 

Woman. 
I'll  give  it  you.  {Sees  Nicholas  Ivano- 
VICH.)  Good-day,  Nicholas  Ivanovich.  You 
see  what  they  are  all  bringing  me  to !  There's  no 
one  but  me  to  do  anything,  and  I'm  worn  out. 
Now  they're  taking  our  very  last  man  to  jail,  and 
this  lazy  lout  is  lying  about  doing  nothing. 

Nicholas. 
Why  do  you  say  that?     You  can  see  he  Is  ill. 

Woman. 
Ill,  indeed.     What  about  me?     When  there's 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  105 

work  to  be  done  then  he*s  sick,  but  If  he  wants  to 
go  on  the  spree  and  knock  me  about,  he^s  well 
enough.     Let  him  die  like  a  dog.     I  don't  care. 

Nicholas. 
How  sinful  to  talk  like  that  I 

Woman. 
I  know  it's  a  sin.  But  my  temper  gets  the 
better  of  me.  Look  how  I  am,  and  I  have  to 
work  for  two.  All  the  others  have  got  their  oats 
in,  and  a  quarter  of  our  field  isn't  cut  yet.  I 
ought  not  to  have  stopped,  but  I  had  to  come 
home  and  see  after  the  children. 

Nicholas. 
I  will  have  your  oats  cut  for  you  and  will  send 
some  binders  out  to  your  field. 

Woman. 
Oh,  I  can  manage  the  binding  myself,  if  we 
can  only  get  it  cut.     Oh,  Nicholas  Ivanovich,  do 
you  think  he's  going  to  die?     He's  very  low  in- 
deed. 

Nicholas. 
I'm  sure  I  don't  know;  but  he's  certainly  very 
weak.     I  think  he  had  better  be  taken  to  the  hos- 
pital. 

Woman. 
Oh,    my    God!      {Begins    to    weep    loudly.) 


io6  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

Don't  take  him  away.     Let  him  die  here.     {To 
the  husband.)     What  did  you  say? 

Ivan. 

I  want  to  go  to  hospital.     Fm  lying  here  worse 
than  a  dog. 

Woman. 
Oh,  I  don't  know  what  to  do  I     I  shall  go  mad  I 
Malashka,  get  dinner  I 

Nicholas. 
And  what  have  you  got  for  dinner? 

Woman. 
Some  potatoes  and  bread.     That's  all  we've 
got.      {Goes   into   cottage,   the  sounds   of  a  pig 
squealing  and  children  crying  are  heard.) 

Ivan. 
{groaning.)     Oh,  God,  If  Death  would  come! 

{Enter  Boris.) 

Boris. 
Can't  I  be  of  any  use  here! 

Nicholas. 
No  one  can  be  of  any  use  here.     The  evil  is 
too  deeply  rooted.     We  can  only  be  of  use  to  our- 
selves by  realising  on  what  foundations  we  build 
our   happiness.     Here   Is   a    family  —  five   chll- 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  107 

dren  —  the  wife  pregnant,  the  husband  111,  and 
nothing  in  the  house  to  eat  but  potatoes.  And  at 
this  moment  it  is  a  question  whether  they  will  have 
food  for  next  year.  And  there  is  no  help  for 
them.  How  can  one  help?  I  am  going  to  hire 
a  man  to  work  for  them.  But  who  will  that  man 
be?  A  man  as  badly  off  as  they  are,  who  has 
given  up  tilling  his  own  land  through  drunkenness 
or  poverty. 

Boris. 
Excuse  me,  but  if  that  is  the  case,  why  are  you 
here? 

Nicholas. 

I  am  trying  to  ascertain  my  own  position;  to 

know  who  looks  after  our  gardens,   builds  our 

houses,  makes  our  clothes,  feeds  and  dresses  us. 

(Peasants     with     scythes     and 

Women  with  pitchforks  pass  them. 

They  bow  to  the  master.) 

Nicholas. 
{stopping  one  of  them.)     Ephralm,  can  you  take 
the  job  of  cutting  Ivan's  oats  for  him? 

Ephraim. 
{shaking  his  head.)      I'd  do  It  gladly,  but  I  can't. 
I  haven't  got  my  own  In  yet.     I'm  just  hurrying 
off  to  do  it  now.     Why?     Is  Ivan  dying? 


io8  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

Another  Peasant. 
There's  old  Sebastian.     Maybe  he  can  take  the 
job.     Sebastian  I     They  want  a  man  to  reap. 

Sebastian. 
Take  the  job  yourself  if  you  want  it.     One  day 
may  mean  the  whole  year  in  such  weather  as  this. 

Nicholas. 
(to  Boris.)  All  those  men  are  half-starved, 
many  of  them  ill  or  old,  living  on  bread  and 
water.  Look  at  that  old  man.  He  suffers  from 
rupture  —  and  he  works  from  four  in  the  morn- 
ing till  ten  at  night,  and  is  barely  alive.  And  we 
•—now,  is  it  possible,  when  we  once  understand 
this,  to  go  on  living  quietly  and  calling  ourselves 
Christians?  Can  we  call  ourselves  anything  short 
of  beasts? 

Boris. 
But  what  are  we  to  do? 

Nicholas. 
Not  be  a  party  to  evil.  Not  possess  land. 
Not  feed  upon  their  toil.  How  this  can  be  man- 
aged I  do  not  know.  The  thing  is  —  at  least  so 
it  was  with  me.  I  lived  and  did  not  understand 
what  sort  of  life  I  led.  I  didn't  understand  that 
I  was  a  son  of  God  and  that  we  were  all  sons  of 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  109 

God  and  all  brothers.  But  when  I  came  to  under- 
stand that,  when  I  saw  that  all  had  equal  claims 
on  life,  my  whole  life  was  changed.  I  cannot  ex- 
plain it  very  well  to  you,  I  can  only  say  that  be- 
fore, I  was  blind,  just  as  my  family  still  are,  but 
now  my  eyes  are  opened  I  cannot  help  seeing. 
And>  seeing,  I  cannot  go  on  living  as  before. 
But,  of  course,  for  the  present  we  must  do  as  best 
we  can. 

(Enter    Police-Sergeant,     with 
Peter,  and  his  wife  and  a  hoy,) 

Peter. 
{falling  on  his  knees  before  Nicholas  Ivano- 
VICH.)      Forgive    me,    for    Christ's    sake.     Fm 
done    for!     My    wife    can't    get    along    alone. 
Can't  you  let  me  go  on  bail  ? 

Nicholas. 
I  will  see  about  it.     I  will  write.      {To  the 
Police-Sergeant.)     Couldn't  you  let  him  stay 
here  meanwhile  ? 

Sergeant. 
I  have  orders  to  take  him  to  the  police-station. 

Nicholas. 
Go  then;  I  will  hire  a  labourer.     I  will  do  all 
that  is  possible.     This  is  my  fault.     How  can  one 
live  like  this? 

{Exit.) 


no  THE  LIGHT  THAT 


Scene    III 

Same  as  Scene  I.  It  is  raining  outside. 
Drawing-room  with  a  piano.  TONIA  has  just 
finished  playing  the  Schumann  Sonata,  and  is  still 
sitting  at  the  piano.  Stephen  stands  near  the 
piano.  After  the  music,  LuBA,  Lisa,  Anna 
IvANOVNA,  MiTROFAN  Dmitrich  and  the  Priest 
are  all  greatly  moved. 

LuBA. 
The  Andante  is  so  lovely. 

Stephen. 
No= — the  Scherzo  I     But  the  whole  thing  is 
charming. 

Beautiful  I 


Lisa. 


Stephen. 
{to  ToNiA.)     I  had  no  Idea  you  were  such  an 
artist.     Your  rendering  is  masterly.     Difficulties 
do  not  seem  to  exist  for  you,  you  only  think  of 
the  expression,  and  it  is  so  exquisitely  delicate. 

LuBA. 
So  noble,  too  I 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  iii 

TONIA. 
I  feel  It  IS  not  what  I  want  it  to  be.     There's  a 
great  deal  lacking  In  my  playing. 

Lisa. 
It  could  not  be  better.     It  is  marvellous. 

LUBA. 
Schumann  is  very  great.     But  I  think  Chopin 
appeals  to  the  heart  more. 

Stephen. 
He  IS  more  lyrical. 

TONIA. 

I  do  not  think  a  comparison  Is  possible. 

LUBA. 

Do  you  remember  that  Prelude  of  his  ? 

TONIA. 

Do  you  mean  the  so-called  George  Sand  one? 

{Begins  to  play,) 

LUBA. 

No,  not  that  one.     That  Is  lovely,  but  It  Is 
hackneyed.     Please  play  this  one. 

(ToNiA  tries  to  play,  hut  breaks 
off  and  stops,) 

LuBA. 

No,  the  one  In  D  minor. 


112  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

TONIA. 

Oh,  this  one.     It  Is  wonderful.     It  is  like  chaos 
before  the  Creation. 

Stephen. 
(laughs.)     Yes,  yes  I     Do  play  it.     No,  better 
not  —  you  are  tired.     We  have  already  had  a 
wonderful  morning,  thanks  to  you. 

(ToNiA  rises  and  looks  out  of  the 
window,) 

TONIA. 
There  are  the  peasants  again, 

LuBA. 
That's  what  is  so  precious  in  music.     I  under- 
stand Saul.     Tm  not  tormented  by  the  devil,  but 
I  know  how  Saul  felt.     There's  no  art  that  can 
make  one  forget  everything  like  music. 

TONIA. 

And  yet  you  are  going  to  marry  %  man  who 
doesn't  understand  music. 

LUBA. 

Oh,  but  —  Boris  does  understand  it. 

Boris. 
(absent-minded.)      Music! — Yes,   I  like  music. 
But  It  Isn't  Important.     And  I  am  rather  sorry 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  113 

for  the  life  that  people  lead  who  attach  so  much 
importance  to  It. 

{There  are  sweets  on  the  table  and 
they  all  eat.) 

LuBA. 
How  nice  to  be  engaged  I     Then  one  always 
has  sweets. 

Boris. 
Oh,  it  is  not  I' — it's  mother. 

TONIA. 
Very   nice   of   her.      {Goes   to    the   window.y 
Whom  do  you  want  to  see?     The  peasants  have 
come  to  see  Nicholas  Ivanovich. 

LuBA. 
{going  to   the  window.)     He   is  not  at  home. 

Wait. 

TONIA. 
And  what  about  poetry? 

LuBA. 
No,  the  value  of  music  is  that  it  takes  hold  of 
you,  and  carries  you  away  from  reality.  We  were 
all  so  gloomy  just  now,  and  when  you  began  to 
play,  everything  brightened.  It  did  really. 
Take  the  waltzes  of  Chopin.  They're  hackneyed, 
of  course,  but  — ^ 

TONIA. 

This  one?     {She  plays.) 


114  THE  LIGHT  THAT 


Scene  IV 

{Enter     Nicholas.     He     greets 
ToNiA,  LuBA,  Stephen,  and  Lisa.) 

Nicholas. 
{to  LuBA.)     Where's  Mother? 

LUBA. 

I  think  she  is  In  the  nursery.  Father,  how 
wonderfully  Tenia  plays.  Where  have  you 
been? 

Nicholas. 
In  the  village. 

(Stephen  calls  the  footman,  who 
enters,) 

Stephen. 
Bring  another  samovar. 

Nicholas. 
{shakes  hands  with  footman.)      Good  morning! 
{Footman  confused.     Exit.     Exit 
also  Nicholas.) 

Stephen. 
Poor      chap!     He's      so      embarrassed.     He 
doesn't  understand.     It's  as  If  we  were  all  guilty 
somehow. 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  115 

Nicholas. 
(re-enters.)  I  was  going  to  my  room  without 
telling  you  what  I  felt.  I  think  it  was  wrong  of 
me.  (To  ToNiA.)  If  you,  who  are  our  guest, 
are  hurt  by  what  I  am  going  to  say,  please  forgive 
me,  as  I  must  speak.  You  said  just  now,  Luba, 
that  Tonia  played  well.  Here  you  are,  seven  or 
eight  healthy  young  men  and  women.  You  slept 
till  ten  o'clock.  Then  you  had  food  and  drink, 
and  you  are  still  eating,  and  you  play  and  discuss 
music.  And  there,  where  I  have  just  come  from, 
the  people  are  up  at  three  in  the  morning.  Some 
have  not  slept  at  all,  having  watched  the  cattle  all 
night,  and  all  of  them,  even  the  old,  the  sick,  and 
the  children,  and  the  women  with  babies  at  the 
breast  and  those  who  are  about  to  have  children, 
work  with  their  utmost  strength,  that  we  may 
enjoy  the  fruits  of  their  labour.  And  as  if  that 
were  not  enough,  one  of  them,  the  only  worker 
in  the  family.  Is  just  now  being  dragged  to  prison 
because  In  the  spring  he  cut  down  a  pine-tree  In 
the  forest  which  is  called  mine  —  one  of  the  hun- 
dred thousand  that  grow  there.  Here  we  are, 
washed  and  dressed,  having  left  all  our  unclean- 
ness  In  the  bedrooms  for  slaves  to  carry  away. 
Eating,  drinking,  or  discussing,  which  touches  us 
more  —  Schumann  or  Chopin  —  and  which  of 
them  drives  away  our  ennui  the  more  effectually. 


lie  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

That  is  what  I  thought  on  seeing  you  all  just  now, 
and  so  tell  you.  Just  think  whether  It  is  possible 
to  go  on  like  that  I  {Standing  in  great  agita' 
tion,) 

Lisa. 
It  Is  true  ^^-^  quite  true. 

LUBA. 

Thinking  as  you  do,  life  is  Impossible.. 

Stephen. 

Why  IS  It  Impossible?  I  don't  see  why  we 
shouldn't  talk  about  Schumann  even  though  the 
peasants  are  poor.  The  one  doesn't  exclude  the 
other.     If  men=^ 

Nicholas. 

{angrily,)  If  a  man  has  no  heart  and  Is  made 
of  wood  ^ — 

Stephen. 
Well,  I  will  be  silent. 

TONIA. 

This  problem  Is  terrible.  And  It  Is  the  prob- 
lem of  our  time.  We  must  not  be  afraid  of  it. 
We  must  look  reality  in  the  face  In  order  to  solve 
it. 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  117 

Nicholas. 

There  is  no  time  to  wait  for  the  problem  to  be 
solved  by  concerted  action.  Each  of  us  may  die 
to-day  or  to-morrow.  How  am  I  to  live  without 
suffering  from  this  inner  conflict. 

Boris. 

Of  course  the  only  way  is  not  to  share  in  the 
evil. 

Nicholas. 

Well,  forgive  me  if  I  have  hurt  you.  I  could 
not  help  saying  what  I  felt.     (Exit,) 

Stephen. 

How  could  we  avoid  sharing  in  it?  Our  whole 
life  is  bound  up  with  it. 

Boris. 

That  IS  exactly  why  he  says  that  in  the  first 
place  one  ought  not  to  possess  property,  and  one's 
whole  life  should  be  so  altered  that  one  may  serve 
others,  and  not  be  served  by  them. 

TONIA. 

Oh,  I  see  you  are  quite  on  Nicholas  Ivanovich's 
side. 


ii8  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

Boris. 
Yes,  I  begin  to  understand  for  the  first  time; 
and,  besides,  all  I  saw  in  the  village.  We  have 
only  to  take  off  the  spectacles  through  which  we 
are  accustomed  to  view  the  life  of  the  peasants, 
to  see  how  their  misery  is  connected  with  our 
pleasures,  and  there  you  are. 

MiTROFAN. 
But  the  remedy  is  not  to  ruin  our  own  lives. 

Stephen. 
Isn't  It  extraordinary  how  Mitrofan  Ermilovich 
and  I,  standing  at  opposite  poles,  agree  on  some 
points?     Those  are  my  exact  words:  not  to  ruin 
our  own  lives. 

Boris. 
It*s  perfectly  simple.  You  both  want  a  pleas- 
ant life,  and  so  you  want  to  adopt  a  plan  of  living 
that  will  ensure  it.  You  (turning  to  Stephen) 
would  like  to  preserve  present  conditions,  and 
Mitrofan  Ermilovich  wants  new  ones. 

(LuBA  speaks  under  her  breath  to 
TONIA.  TONIA  goes  to  the  piano 
and  plays  a  Chopin  Nocturne,  All 
are  silent.) 

!  Stephen. 

'         That  is  beautiful.     That  solves  all  problems. 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  119; 

Boris. 

It  only  obscures  them,  and  delays  their  solution. 
(During  the  music  enter  silently 
Marie  Ivanovna  and  the  Princess. 
'They  sit  down  and  listen.  Before  the 
end  of  the  Nocturne  carriage  bells  are 
heard,) 

LuBA. 

Oh,  that  IS  Auntie ! 

{Goes  to  meet  her.  Music  con- 
tinues. Enter  Alexandra  Ivan- 
ovna and  a  lawyer  and  FatheJR 
Gerasim  with  his  pectoral  cross. 
All  present  rise.) 

Father  Gerasim. 

Pray  continue.     It  is  very  pleasant. 

{The  Princess  and  Father 
Vasily  go  up  to  him  and  ask  his 
blessing. ) 

Alexandra. 

I  have  done  what  I  said  I  would.  I  found 
Father  Gerasim  and  persuaded  him  to  come  with 
me.  He  is  going  to  Kursk.  So  I  have  done  my 
part.  And  here  is  the  lawyer.  He  has  the 
papers  all  ready  to  sign. 


120  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

Marie. 
Would  you  not  like  to  have  some  luncheon? 

{The  Lawyer  lays  his  papers  on 
the  table  and  goes.) 
I  am  very  grateful  to  Father  Gerasim. 

Father  Gerasim. 
What  else  could  I  do  ?     It  was  not  on  my  way, 
but  my  Christian  duty  bade  me  come. 

(Princess  whispers  to  the  young 
people.  They  all  talk  among  theni' 
selves,  and  go  out  on  the  veranda, 
except  Boris.  Father  Vasily  rises 
to  go.) 

Father  Gerasim. 
Stay  with  us.     You  as  a  spiritual  father,  and 
the  pastor  here,  may  derive  some  benefit  and  be 
of  use.     Stay,  if  Marie  Ivanovna  does  not  object. 

Marie. 
Oh,  no.     Father  Vasily  is  like  one  of  the  family 
to  me.     I  consulted  him  as  well,  but  being  young, 
he  lacks  authority. 

Father  Gerasim. 
Undoubtedly,  undoubtedly. 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  121 

Alexandra. 

(approaching  him.)  Now,  you  see,  Father 
Gerasim,  you  are  the  only  one  that  can  help  us  and 
persuade  him  to  see  reason.  He  is  a  clever  man 
and  a  learned  man;  but  you  know  yourself,  learn- 
ing can  only  do  harm.  He  does  not  see  clearly 
somehow.  He  persists  In  saying  that  the  Chris- 
tian command  is  to  have  no  possessions.  But  is 
that  possible? 

Father  Gerasim. 
It  IS  all  a  snare,   Intellectual  pride,   self-will. 
The  fathers  of  the  Church  have  settled  that  ques- 
tion adequately.     But  how  did  it  all  come  about? 

Marie. 
To  be  quite  frank  with  you,  I  must  say  that  when 
we  married  he  was  indifferent  to  religious  ques- 
tions, and  we  lived  the  first  twenty  years  of  our 
life  happily.  Then  he  began  to  think  about 
these  things.  His  sister  may,  perhaps,  have  in- 
fluenced him,  or  his  reading.  But  at  any  rate  he 
began  to  think,  to  read  the  Gospel,  and  then  all 
at  once  he  became  very  pious,  going  to  church, 
visiting  monks,  and  then  he  suddenly  stopped 
all  that,  and  changed  his  life  completely.  Now 
he  does  everything  for  himself,  he  permits  none 
of  the  servants  to  do  anything  for  him,  and, 
worst  of  all,  he  is  giving  away  all  his  property. 


122  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

Yesterday  he  gave  away  his  forest  and  the  land 
attached  to  It.  I  am  afraid.  I  have  seven  chil- 
dren. Do  talk  to  him.  I'll  go  and  ask  whether 
he  will  see  youw      (Exit.) 

Father  Gerasim. 
Yes,  nowadays,  many  are  leaving  the  Church. 
What  about  the  property?     Does  it  belong  to  him 
or  his  wife? 

Alexandra. 
It  is  his  own.     That  is  the  worst  of  it. 

Father  Gerasim.  , 

And  what  is  his  rank. 

Princess. 

Not  a  high  one.  I  think  he  is  a  captain.  He 
has  been  in  the  army. 

Father  Gerasim. 

Many  are  leaving  the  Church  nowadays.  In 
Odessa  there  was  a  lady  who  became  infatuated 
with  spiritualism,  and  she  began  to  do  a  lot  of 
harm.  But  finally  God  prevailed,  and  brought 
her  again  within  the  Church. 

Princess. 

Now,  father,  you  must  understand.  My  son 
is  going  to  marry  their  daughter.     I  have  given 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  123 

my  consent.  But  the  girl  Is  used  to  a  life  of  lux- 
ury, and  she  must  have  means  of  her  own  so  that 
the  entire  burden  may  not  fall  upon  my  son.  I 
must  say  he  works  hard,  and  he  is  a  remarkable 
young  man. 

{Enter    Marie    Ivanovna    and 
Nicholas  Ivanovich.) 

Nicholas. 
How  do  you  do,  Princess?     How   do  you  do? 
Pardon  me  —  I  do  not  know  your  name.     (  To 
Father  Gerasim.) 

Father  Gerasim. 
Do  you  not  wish  for  a  blessing? 

Nicholas. 
No,  I  do  not. 

Father  Gerasim. 
I  am  Gerasim  Feodorovlch.     Pleased  to  meet 
you. 

{Footman  brings  refreshments  and 
wine.) 
It  Is  fine  weather,  and  very  favourable  for  har- 
vesting. 

Nicholas. 
I  understand  you  have  come  on  the  invitation 
of  Alexandra  Ivanovna  to  convince  me  of  my 


124  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

errors,  and  to  lead  me  into  the  right  way.  If 
that  is  the  case,  do  not  let  us  beat  about  the  bush. 
Let  us  come  to  the  point.  I  do  not  deny  that  I 
disagree  with  the  teaching  of  the  Church.  I  used 
to  believe  in  it,  but  I  have  ceased  to  do  so. 
Nevertheless,  I  long  with  my  whole  soul  to  be  in 
harmony  with  the  truth,  and  if  you  can  show  it 
to  me,  I  will  accept  it  without  hesitation. 

Father  Gerasim. 
How  can  you  say  you  do  not  believe  the  teach- 
ing of  the  Church?    What  are  we  to  believe  if 
not  the  Church? 

Nicholas. 
God,  and  his  law,  given  to  us  in  the  Gospel. 

Father  Gerasim. 
The  Church  instructs  us  in  that  very  law. 

Nicholas. 
If  that  were  so,  I  would  believe  the  Church. 
But  the  Church  teaches  the  very  opposite. 

Father  Gerasim. 
The  Church  cannot  teach  the  opposite,  for  it  is 
founded  by  our  Lord.     It  is  said,  "  I  give  you  the 
power,  and  the  Gates  of  Hell  shall  not  prevail 
against  it." 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  125 

Nicholas. 
That  refers  to  something  quite  different.     But, 
supposing  that  Christ  did  found  a  church.     How 
do  I  know  that  it  Is  your  Church? 

Father  Gerasim. 
Because  It  Is  said,  *' Where  two  or  three  are 
gathered  together  In  My  name  — " 

Nicholas. 
That  does  not  apply  either,  and  does  not  prove 
anything. 

Father  Gerasim. 
How  can  you  renounce  the  Church,  when  the 
Church  alone  possesses  grace? 

Nicholas. 
I  did  not   renounce   the   Church  until  I  was 
wholly  convinced  that  It  supports  all  that  Is  con- 
trary to  Christianity. 

Father  Gerasim. 
The  Church  cannot  err,  because  she  alone  pos- 
sesses the  truth.     Those  err  who  leave  her.     The 
Church  Is  sacred. 

Nicholas. 
But  I  have  told  you  I  do  not  admit  that,  be- 
cause the  Gospel  says,  "  Ye  shall  know  them  by 


I2g  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

their  fruits.*'  And  I  perceive  that  the  Church 
gives  her  sanction  to  oath-taking  and  murder  and 
executions. 

Father  Gerasim. 
The  Church  admits  and  consecrates  the  powers 
instituted  by  God. 

(During  the  conversation  enter  one 
by  one  Luba,  Lisa,  Stephen, 
ToNiA,  and  Boris,  who  sit  or  stand 
and  listen.) 

Nicholas. 
I  know  that  not  only  killing  but  anger  is  for- 
bidden by  the  Gospel.  And  the  Church  gives  its 
blessing  to  the  army.  The  Gospel  says,  "  Do  not 
swear,"  and  the  Church  administers  oaths.  The 
Gospel  says  — 

Father  Gerasim. 
Excuse  me  —  when  Pilate  said,  "  I  ask  you  in 
the  name  of  the  living  God,"  Christ  accepted  the 
oath,  and  said,  "  Yes,  that  I  am." 

Nicholas. 
Oh,   what  are  you   saying?     That   is   simply 
ridiculous  1 

Father  Gerasim. 
That  is  why  the  Church  does  not  permit  in- 
dividuals  to    interpret   the   Gospel.     She   would 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  127 

preserve  men  from  error,  and  she  cares  for  them 
as  a  mother  for  her  children.  She  gives  them  an 
interpretation  befitting  the  powers  of  their  mind. 
No !  Allow  me  to  finish.  The  Church  does  not 
give  her  children  a  burden  heavier  than  they  can 
bear.  She  requires  only  that  they  fulfil  the  com- 
mandments. Love,  do  not  kill,  do  not  steal,  do 
not  commit  adultery. 

Nicholas. 
Yes.  Do  not  kill  me,  do  not  steal  from  me 
what  I  have  stolen.  We  have  all  robbed  the 
people,  have  stolen  their  land,  and  then  we  in- 
stituted the  law  against  stealing.  And  the  Church 
sanctions  it  all. 

Father  Gerasim. 
That  IS  all  a  snare,  mere  spiritual  pride  speak- 
ing in  you.     You  want  to  show  off  your  intellect. 

Nicholas. 
Not  at  all !  I  merely  ask  you,  how,  according 
to  the  law  of  Christ,  am  I  to  behave  now,  when 
I  have  recognised  the  sin  of  robbing  the  people 
and  appropriating  their  land!  What  must  I  do? 
Go  on  holding  my  land,  exploiting  the  labour  of 
the  starving  peasants,  just  for  this?  {He  points 
to  the  servant  who  is  bringing  in  lunch  and  wine.) 
Or  am  I  to  give  back  the  land  to  those  who  have 
been  robbed  by  my  ancestors? 


128  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

Father  Gerasim. 
You  must  act  as  a  son  of  the  Church  should  act. 
You  have  a  family,  children,  and  must  bring  them 
up  as  befits  their  station. 

Nicholas. 
Why  must  I  ? 

Father  Gerasim. 
Because  God  has  placed  you  in  that  station. 
And  If  you  want  to  do  charitable  acts,  then  per- 
form them  by  giving  away  part  of  your  fortune, 
and  by  visiting  the  poor. 

Nicholas. 
Then  why  was  It  said  that  the  rich  man  could 
not  enter  the  kingdom  of  heaven  ? 

Father  Gerasim. 
It  was  said,  if  he  desired  to  be  perfect. 

Nicholas. 
But  I  do  want  to  be  perfect.     It  is  said  In  the 
Gospel,  "  Be  ye  perfect  even  as  your  Father  in 
Heaven  is  perfect." 

Father  Gerasim. 
But  one  must  understand  to  what  it  applies. 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  129 

Nicholas. 
That  IS  exactly  what  I  am  trying  to  understand, 
and  all  that  was  said  in  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount 
is  simple  and  clear. 

Father  Gerasim. 
It  is  all  spiritual  pride. 

Nicholas. 
Why  pride,  if  it  is  said  that  what  is  hidden  from 
the  wise  shall  be  revealed  to  babes? 

Father  Gerasim. 
It  will  be  revealed  to  the  humble  not  to  the 
proud. 

Nicholas. 
But  who  is  proud?  Is  It  I,  who  think  that  I 
am  like  the  rest,  and  therefore  must  live  like  the 
rest,  live  by  my  labour,  and  in  the  same  poverty 
as  all  my  brothers,  or  Is  It  they  who  consider 
themselves  apart  from  the  rest,  as  the  priests  who 
think  they  know  the  whole  truth,  and  cannot 
err,  and  interpret  the  words  of  Christ  to  suit 
themselves? 

Father  Gerasim. 
(offended.)      I  beg  your  pardon,  Nicholas  Ivano- 
vich,  I  have  not  come  to  argue  as  to  who  Is  right. 


I30  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

I  did  not  come  to  be  lectured.  I  complied  with 
the  wish  of  Alexandra  Ivanovna,  and  came  to  have 
a  talk.  But  you  appear  to  know  everything  bet- 
ter than  I,  so  the  conversation  had  better  cease. 
But  I  beseech  you  for  the  last  time,  in  the  name 
of  God,  to  reconsider  the  matter.  You  are  ter- 
ribly wrong,  and  will  lose  your  own  soul. 

Marie. 
Won't  you  come  and  have  something  to  eat? 

Father  Gerasim. 

Thank  you  very  much.      (Accepts.) 

(Exit  with  Anna  Ivanovna.)' 

Marie. 
(to  Father  Vastly.)     What  is  the  result  of 
your  talk? 

Father  Vasily. 
Well,  my  opinion  is  that  Nicholas  Ivanovich 
spoke  truly,  and  Father  Gerasim  brought  no  argu- 
ments against  what  he  said. 

Princess. 
He  was  not  allowed  to  speak.    And  then  He 
did  not  like  it.     It  became  a  sort  of  wordy  tour- 
nament, with  everybody  listening.     He  withdrew 
out  of  modesty. 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  131 

Boris. 
It  was  not  at  all  from  modesty.     Everything  he 
said  was  false,  and  he  obviously  had  nothing  more 
to  say. 

Princess. 
Oh,  I  see.     With  your  usual  fickleness  you  are 
beginning  to  agree  with  Nicholas  Ivanovich.     If 
those  are  your  opinions  you  ought  not  to  marry. 

Boris. 
I  only  say  that  truth  is  truth.     I  cannot  help 
saying  It. 

Princess. 

You  are  the  last  person  who  ought  to  speak 
like  that. 

Boris. 

Why? 

Princess. 
Because  you  are  poor,  and  have  nothing  to  give 
away.     However,  the  whole  affair  is  no  concern 
of  ours.     (Exit,) 

(After  her  all  except  NICHOLAS 
and  Marie  Ivanovna  go  out,) 

Nicholas. 
(sits  deep  in  thought  and  smiles  meditatively.) 
Masha,  what  Is  all  this  about?     Why  did  you 


132  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

ask  that  miserable,  misguided  man  to  come  here? 
Why  should  that  noisy  woman  and  this  priest  take 
part  In  the  most  intimate  questions  of  our  life? 
Couldn't  we  settle  all  our  affairs  between  our- 
selves? 

Marie. 
But  what  can  I  do  if  you  wish  to  leave  our 
children  with  nothing?     I  cannot  sit  still  and  let 
you  do  that.     You  know  It  Is  not  greed?!^!  do 
not  want  anything  for  myself. 

Nicholas. 
I  know,  I  know.  I  trust  you.  But  the  mis- 
fortune Is  that  you  do  not  believe.  I  don't  mean 
that  you  don't  believe  the  truth.  I  know  you  see 
It;  but  you  cannot  bring  yourself  to  trust  It.  You 
do  not  trust  the  truth,  and  you  do  not  trust  me. 
You  would  rather  trust  the  crowd  ■ —  the  princess 
and  the  rest. 

Marie. 
I  trust  you;  I  have  always  trusted  you.     But 
when  you  want  to  make  our  children  beggars  — 

Nicholas. 

That  proves  that  you  do  not  trust  me.     Do 

you  Imagine  I  have  not  struggled  and  have  not  had 

fears  ?    But  now  I  am  perfectly  convinced,  not  only 

that  It  can  be  done,  but  must  be  done,  and  that 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  133 

this  IS  the  only  right  thing  to  do  for  the  children. 
You  always  say  that  if  it  were  not  for  the  children 
you  would  follow  me.  And  I  say  that  if  it  were 
not  for  the  children  you  might  go  on  living  as  you 
do.  We  should  only  be  injuring  ourselves.  As  it 
is  we  injure  them. 

Marie. 
But  what  can  I  do  if  I  don't  understand? 

Nicholas. 
And  I  —  what  am  I  to  do  ?  I  know  why  you 
sent  for  that  poor  creature  dressed  up  in  his  cas- 
sock and  his  cross,  and  I  know  why  Aline  brought 
the  lawyer.  You  want  me  to  transfer  the  estate 
to  your  name.  I  cannot  do  that.  You  know  I 
have  loved  you  during  the  twenty  years  we  have 
been  married.  I  love  you,  and  I  have  every  wish 
for  your  welfare,  and  that  is  why  I  cannot  sign 
that  transfer.  If  I  am  to  make  over  the  estate, 
then  it  must  be  to  those  from  whom  it  came  —  the 
peasants.  I  cannot  give  it  to  you.  I  must  give  it 
to  them.  I  am  glad  the  lawyer  has  come.  I 
must  do  it. 

Marie. 
This  is  dreadful!     Why  are  you  so  cruel?     If 
you  think  it  a  sin  to  hold  property,  give  it  to  me. 
{Weeps.) 


134  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

Nicholas. 
You  do  not  know  what  you  are  saying.  If  I 
gave  it  to  you  I  could  not  go  on  living  with  you. 
I  should  have  to  go  away.  I  cannot  continue  to 
live  in  these  conditions,  and  see  the  peasants 
squeezed  dry,  whether  it  is  in  your  name  or  mine. 
I  cannot  see  them  put  in  prison.     So  choose. 

Marie. 
How  cruel  you  are!  This  is  not  Christianity; 
it  is  wicked.  I  cannot  live  as  you  want  me  to  do. 
I  cannot  take  things  from  my  children  to  give  to 
strangers,  and  for  that  you  would  forsake  me! 
Well,  go.  I  see  that  you  no  longer  love  me,  and, 
indeed,  I  know  the  reason. 

Nicholas. 
Very  well,  I  will  sign  it.     But,  Masha,  you  are 
asking  the  impossible  of  me.      (Goes  to  the  table 
and  signs,)      It  is  you  who  desired  that.     I  can- 
not live  so.     (Rushes  away  holding  his  head,) 

Marie. 
(calling.)     Lubal     Aline  I      (They  enter,)     He 
has  signed  —  and  gone.     What  am  I  to  do?     He 
said  he  would  go  away,  and  he  will.     Go  to  him. 

LuBA. 
He  is  gone. 


ACT  III 

Scene  I 

Scene  is  laid  in  Moscow.  Large  room,  and  in 
it  a  carpenter^ s  bench,  a  table  with  papers,  a  book- 
case. Boards  lean  against  and  cover  the  mirror 
and  the  pictures.  Nicholas  Ivanovich  is 
working  at  the  bench;  a  carpenter  is  planing. 

Nicholas. 
{taking  a  finished  board  from  the  bench.)     Is 
that  all  right? 

Carpenter. 
(adjusts  the  plane.)     It's  not  up  to  much.     Go  at 
It  I     Don't  be  afraid.     Like  that. 

Nicholas. 
I  wish  I  could,  but  I  cannot  manage  It. 

Carpenter. 
But  why  do  you  go  In  for  carpentering,  sir? 
There  are  so  many  In  our  trade  now,  you  can't 
make  a  living  at  it. 

Nicholas. 
(continues  working.)     1  am  ashamed  to  live  In 
idleness. 

135 


136  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

Carpenter. 

But  that's  your  lot  in  life,  sir.  God  has  given 
you  property. 

Nicholas. 

That  is  just  the  point.  I  do  not  believe  God 
gave  anything  of  the  kind.  Men  have  amassed 
goods  that  they  have  taken  from  their  brothers. 

Carpenter. 

(wondering.)  That  may  all  be  very  true.  But 
still  you  need  not  work. 

Nicholas. 

I  understand  that  it  seems  strange  to  you  that 
in  this  house,  where  there  is  so  much  superfluity,  I 
still  wish  to  earn  my  living. 

Carpenter. 

(laughing,)  Well,  that's  just  like  you  gentlemen. 
There's  nothing  you  don't  want  to  do.  Now  just 
smooth  off  that  plank. 

Nicholas. 

Perhaps  you  will  not  believe  me  and  will  laugh 
at  me  when  I  say  that  I  used  to  live  that  way  and 
was  not  ashamed  of  it,  but  now  that  I  believe 
the  teaching  of  Christ  that  we  are  all  brothers,  I 
am  ashamed  to  live  that  life. 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  137 

Carpenter. 
If  you  are  ashamed  give  away  your  property. 

Nicholas. 
I  wanted  to,  but  I  did  not  succeed.     I  have 
handed  it  over  to  my  wife. 

A  Voice. 
{from  outside,)     Father,  may  I  come  In? 

Nicholas. 
Of  course  you  may  I     You  may  always  come 
in. 

(Enter  Luba.) 

LuBA. 

Good-morning,  Yakov. 

Carpenter. 
Good-morning,  miss. 

Luba. 

(to  her  father.)  Boris  has  left  for  the  regiment. 
I'm  so  afraid  he  will  do  or  say  something  he  ought 
not  to.     What  do  you  think? 

Nicholas. 
What  can  I  think?     He  will  act  according  to 
his  conscience. 


1381  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

LUBA. 

But  that's  awful.  He  has  only  such  a  short 
time  to  serve  now,  and  he  may  go  and  ruin  his 
life. 

Nicholas. 

He  did  well  in  not  coming  to  me.  He  knows 
I  cannot  tell  him  anything  beyond  what  he  knows 
himself.  He  told  me  himself  that  he  asked  for 
his  discharge  because  he  saw  that  there  could  not 
be  a  more  lawless,  cruel,  brutal  occupation  than 
that  which  is  based  on  murder.  And  that  there 
is  nothing  more  humiliating  than  to  obey  implicitly 
any  man  who  happens  to  be  his  superior  in  rank. 
He  knows  all  this. 

LuBA. 
That   is   precisely  what   Fm   afraid   of.     He 
knows  of  all  that  and  he'll  be  sure  to  do  some- 
thing. 

Nicholas. 
His  conscience,  that  God  within  him,  must  de- 
cide that.  If  he  had  come  to  me  I  should  have 
advised  him  only  one  thing,  not  to  act  on  the  dic- 
tates of  reason,  but  only  when  his  whole  being 
demanded  it.  There's  nothing  worse  than  that. 
There  was  I,  desiring  to  do  Christ's  bidding, 
which  is  to  leave  father,  wife,  children  —  and 
follow  Him.     And  I  was  on  the  point  of  going. 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  139 

And  how  did  that  end?  It  ended  by  my  coming 
back  and  living  in  town,  with  you,  in  luxury. 
That  was  because  I  wanted  to  do  something  be- 
yond my  strength,  and  it  ended  in  placing  me  in  a 
stupid  and  humiliating  position.  I  want  to  live 
simply  —  to  work  —  and  in  these  surroundings, 
with  footmen  and  hall  porters,  it  becomes  a  pose. 
There,  I  see  Yakov  Nikanorovich  is  laughing  at 
me. 

Carpenter. 
Why   should   I   laugh?     You   pay  me  =^- you 
give  me  tea  ^-^  I  am  very  grateful  to  you. 

LuBA. 
Don't  youi  think   I   had  better   go   to   him, 
father? 

Nicholas. 
My  darling,  I  know  how  hard  it  is  for  you  — 
how  terrible !  But  you  ought  not  to  be  frightened. 
I  am  a  man  who  understands  life.  No  harm  can 
come  of  it.  All  that  seems  to  you  bad,  really 
brings  joy  to  the  heart.  You  must  understand 
that  a  man  who  chooses  that  path  has  had  to  make 
a  choice.  There  are  circumstances  in  which  the 
scales  balance  evenly  between  God  and  the  devil. 
And  at  that  moment  God's  greatest  work  is  being 
done.  Any  interference  from  without  is  very 
dangerous,   and  only  brings  suffering.     It  is  as 


I40  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

though  a  man  were  making  a  great  effort  to  bear 
down  the  scale,  and  the  touch  of  a  finger  may 
break  his  back. 

LuBA. 
But  why  suffer? 

Nicholas. 
It  IS  the  same  thing  as  though  a  mother  should 
say,  "  Why  suffer?  "  But  a  child  cannot  be  born 
without  pain.  And  so  it  is  with  spiritual  birth. 
I  can  only  say  one  thing  —  Boris  is  a  true  Chris- 
tian, and  therefore  free.  And  if  you  cannot  be 
like  him,  if  you  cannot  believe  God  as  he  does, 
then  believe  God  through  him. 

Marie. 
(outside  the  door,)     May  I  come  in? 

Nicholas. 
Certainly  —  always.     Quite  a  meeting  here  to- 
day. 

Marie. 
Our    priest    has    come  —  Vasily    Ermilovich. 
He  is  on  his  way  to  the  bishop  to  resign  his  cure. 

Nicholas. 
Not  really.     Is  he  here?     Luba,  call  him.     He 
will  certainly  want  to  see  me. 

{Exit  LuBA.y 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  141 

Marie. 
I  came  to  tell  you  about  Vania.     He  is  behav- 
ing so  badly  and  will  not  study,  and  I  am  sure  he 
will  not  pass.     I  have  tried  to  talk  to  him  but  he 
Is  impertinent. 

Nicholas. 
Masha — *you  know  I  do  not  sympathise  with 
your  mode  of  life  and  your  ideas  of  education. 
It  is  an  awful  question  whether  I  have  the  right  to 
look  on  and  see  my  children  ruined. 

Marie. 
Then    you    must    offer    a    definite    substitute. 
What  do  you  propose? 

Nicholas. 
I  cannot  say  ^ —  I  can  only  tell  you  that  the  first 
thing  is  to  get  rid  of  this  corrupting  luxury. 

Marie. 
And  make  peasants  of  them  I     That  I  cannot 
agree  to. 

Nicholas. 
Then  do  not  ask  me.     All  that  upsets  you  now 
is  inevitable. 

{Enter  Father  Vasily  and  em* 
braces  Nicholas  Ivanovich.) 
Then  you  have  really  done  it  I 


142  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

Father  Vasily. 
I  cannot  go  on  any  longer  I 
Nicholas. 
I  did  not  expect  It  would  come  so  soon. 

Father  Vasily. 
It  had  to  come.     In  my  vocation  one  cannot 
remain  Indifferent.     I  had  to  confess,  to  adminis- 
ter the  sacrament;  how  could  I,  knowing  it  to  be 
false  I 

Nicholas. 
And  what  will  happen  now? 

Father  Vasily. 
I  am  going  to  the  bishop  to  be  examined.  I 
am  afraid  I  shall  be  exiled  to  the  Solavetsky  Mon- 
astery. I  thought  at  one  time  of  running  away 
and  going  abroad,  of  asking  you  to  help  me,  but 
then  I  gave  up  the  idea.  It  would  be  cowardly. 
The  only  thing  is  —  my  wife  — < 

Nicholas. 
Where  is  she? 

Father  Vasily. 
She  has  gone  to  her  father.     My  mother-in- 
law  came  and  took  away  our  son.     That  hurt.     I 
wanted  so  much — r     (He  stops,  hardly  restrain- 
ing his  tears.) 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  143 

Nicholas. 
Well,  God  help  you.     Are  you  staying  here 
with  us? 

{Enter    Alexandra    Ivanovna 
with  a  letter.) 

Alexandra. 
A  special  messenger  has  brought  this  for  you, 
Nicholas   Ivanovich.     How   do   you   do,   Father 

iVasily? 

Father  Vasily. 
I  am  no  longer  Father  Vasily,  Alexandra  Ivan- 
ovna. 

Alexandra. 
Really?     Why? 

Father  Vasily. 
I  have  discovered  that  we  do  not  believe  in  the 
right  way. 

Alexandra. 
Oh  dear,  oh  dear,  how  sinful !     You  are  a  good 
man,  but  what  errors  you  do  fall  Into.     It  is  all 
Nicholas  Ivanovich's  doing. 

Father  Vasily. 
Not  Nicholas  Ivanovich's,  but  Christ's. 

Alexandra. 
Oh,  stop,  stop!     Why  leave  the  fold  of  the 


144  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

Orthodox  Church?     I  know  you  mean  well,  but 
you  are  ruining  your  own  soul. 

Nicholas. 
(to  himself,)     I  expected  this.     What  am  I  to 
do? 

Alexandra. 
What  IS  It? 

Nicholas. 
(reading,)  It  is  from  the  Princess.  This  is 
what  she  writes :  "  Boris  has  refused  to  serve  and 
has  been  arrested.  You  have  been  his  ruin.  It 
is  your  duty  to  save  him.  He  is  at  the  Kroutltsk 
Barracks.'*  Yes,  I  must  go  to  him,  If  only  they 
will  let  me  see  him.  (He  takes  off  his  apron,  puts 
his  coat  on,  and  goes  out.)      (Exit  alL\ 


Scene  II 

'Office.  A  Clerk  sitting.  Sentry  'pacing  up 
'and  down  at  opposite  door.  Enter  General 
with  his  aide-de-camp.  Clerk  jumps  up.  Sen- 
try salutes, 

Generac. 

Where  Is  the  colonel? 

Clerk. 
He  was  asked  to  go  to  see  the  recruit,  your 
excellency. 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  145 

General. 
Very  well.     Ask  him  to  come  here. 

Clerk. 
Yes,  your  excellency. 

General. 
What  are  you  copying  there?     The  deposition 
of  the  recruit? 

Clerk. 
Yes,  your  excellency. 

General'. 
Give  It  to  me. 

(Clerk  gives  it  and  goes  out.)] 

General". 
{giving    paper    to    Aide-de-camp.)     Read    It, 
please. 

Aide-de-camp. 
{reading.)  "  To  the  questions  which  were  put 
to  me :  ( i )  Why  I  refused  to  take  the  oath ;  ( 2 ) 
Why  I  refused  to  carry  out  the  demands  of  the 
government;  and  (3)  what  made  me  utter  words 
offensive  not  only  to  the  military  body,  but  to  the 
highest  authority,  I  answer:  to  the  first  question: 
I  will  not  take  the  oath  because  I  profess  the 
teaching  of  Christ.  In  His  teaching  Christ 
clearly  forbids  it,  as  in  the  Gospel,  Matt.  v.  33- 
37,  and  the  Epistle  of  James,  v.  12." 


146  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

General. 
There  they  are,   discussing  and  putting  their 
own  interpretations  on  it. 

Aide-de-camp. 
(continuing.)  "  It  is  said  in  the  Gospel  Matt.  v. 
37,  '  Let  your  communication  be.  Yea,  yea;  Nay, 
nay:  for  whatsoever  is  more  than  these  cometh  of 
evil,'  and  James,  v.  12:  '  But  above  all  things,  my 
brethren,  swear  not,  neither  by  heaven,  neither  by 
the  earth,  neither  by  any  other  oath;  but  let  your 
yea  be  yea;  and  your  nay,  nay;  lest  ye  fall  into 
condemnation.' 

"  But  even  if  there  were  not  such  explicit  pro- 
hibition of  swearing  in  the  Gospel,  I  would  not 
swear  to  fulfil  the  will  of  men,  for  according  to 
Christ's  teaching  I  am  bound  to  fulfil  the  will  of 
God,  which  may  not  coincide  with  the  will  of 
men.'* 

General. 

There  they  are,  discussing  I  If  I  had  my  way, 
such  things  would  not  occur. 

Aide-de-camp. 
(reading.)      "And  I  refuse  to  comply  with  the 
demands  of  men  calling  themselves  the  govern- 
ment because  —  " 

General. 
What  impudence  I 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  147 

Aide-de-camp. 
"  Because  these  demands  are  criminal  and 
wicked.  I  am  required  to  enter  the  army,  to  be 
prepared  and  instructed  how  to  murder.  This  is 
forbidden  by  the  Old  as  well  as  by  the  New  Tes- 
tament, and,  moreover,  by  my  conscience.  As  to 
the  third  question  —  " 

{Enter  CoLONEL  with  Clerk, 
General  shakes  hands  with  him,). 

Colonel. 
lYou  are  reading  the  deposition? 

General. 
Yes.     Unpardonably  impudent.     Continue. 

Aide-de-camp. 
(reading.)  "As  to  the  third  question,  what  in- 
duced me  to  speak  offensively  to  the  Council.  I 
answer,  that  I  was  led  by  my  desire  to  serve  God 
and  to  denounce  shams  which  are  perpetrated  in 
His  name.  This  desire  I  hope  to  preserve  while 
I  live.     That  is  why  — ^ " 

General. 
Oh,  enough  of  that  rubbish !     The  question  Is, 
how  to  root  it  all  out,  and  prevent  him  from  cor- 
rupting our  men.     (To  Colonel.)     Have  you 
spoken  to  him? 


148  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

Colonel. 

I  have  been  talking  to  him  all  this  time.  I  tried 
to  appeal  to  his  conscience,  to  make  him  under- 
stand that  he  was  only  making  matters  worse  for 
himself  and  that  he  would  not  achieve  anything 
by  such  methods.  I  spoke  to  him  about  his  fam- 
ily. He  was  very  excited,  but  he  stuck  to  his 
words. 

GeneraC. 
It  Is  Idle  to  say  much  to  him.     We  are  soldiers ; 
men  of  actions,  not  words.     Have  him  brought 
here. 

[(Exit  Aide-de-camp  and  Clerk.)^ 

General. 
(sitting  down.)  No,  colonel.  You  were  wrong. 
Such  fellows  must  be  dealt  with  in  quite  another 
fashion.  Strong  measures  are  needed  to  cut  off 
the  offending  member.  One  foul  sheep  ruins  the 
whole  flock.  Sentimentality  has  no  place  here. 
His  being  a  prince  and  having  a  mother  and  a 
fiancee  does  not  concern  us.  There  Is  a  soldier  be- 
fore us  and  we  must  fulfil  the  will  of  the  Tsar. 

Colonel. 
I  only  thought  It  would  be  easier  to  influence 
him  by  persuasion. 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  149 

General. 
Not  at  all.  Firmness,  only  firmness.  I  had  a 
case  like  this  once  before.  He  must  be  made  to 
feel  that  he  is  nothing,  that  he  is  a  grain  of  sand 
under  the  wheel  of  a  chariot,  and  that  he  cannot 
impede  its  progress. 

Colonel. 
Well,  we  can  try. 

General. 
^(beginning  to  get  angry.)  It  is  not  a  question  of 
trying.  I  have  nothing  to  try.  I  have  served  my 
sovereign  for  forty-four  years,  have  given  and  am 
giving  my  life  to  the  service,  and  suddenly  a  boy 
comes  and  wants  to  teach  me,  and  quotes  Bible 
texts.  Let  him  talk  that  nonsense  to  the  priests. 
To  me  he  is  either  a  soldier,  or  a  prisoner.  That's 
the  end  of  it. 

{Enter  Boris  under  escort  of  two 
soldiers,  Aide-de-CAMp  follows  him 
in.) 

General. 
(pointing  to  Boris  with  his  finger.)     Place  him 
there. 

Boris. 
No  necessity  whatever   to   *'  place "   me   any- 
where.    I  will  stand  or  sit  where  I  please,  for  as  to 
your  authority  over  me,  I  do  not  — 


ISO  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

General. 
Silence  I     You  don't  recognise  my  authority  — 
I'll  make  you  recognise  itl 

Boris. 
(sits  down,)     How  wrong  of  you  to  shout  like 
that! 

General. 
Lift  him  up  and  make  him  stand  I 

(Soldiers  raise  Boris  up.) 

Boris. 
That  you  can  do.     You  can  kill  me,  but  you  can- 
not force  me  to  obey  you. 

General". 
Silence,  I  say  I     Listen  to  what  I  say  to  you. 

Boris. 
I  do  not  In  the  least  wish  to  hear  what  you  say. 

General. 
He  Is  mad.     He  must  be  sent  to  the  hospital 
to  test  his  sanity.     That's  the  only  thing  to  do 
with  him. 

Colonel. 
We  have  orders  to  send  him  to  the  Gendarmerie 
Department  to  be  questioned. 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  151 

General. 
Very  well  —  do  so.     But  put  him  Into  uniform. 

Colonel. 
He  refuses  to  wear  It. 

General. 
Then  tie  his  hands  and  feet.  {To  Boris.) 
Now  listen  to  what  I  am  going  to  tell  you.  It  Is 
a  matter  of  perfect  Indifference  to  me  what  be- 
comes of  you.  But  for  your  own  sake  I  would 
advise  you  to  think  It  over.  You  will  only  rot 
In  the  fortress,  and  be  of  no  use  to  any  one.  Give 
It  up.  You  were  excited,  and  so  was  I.  {Slap- 
ping him  on  the  shoulder.)  Go  —  take  your  oath 
and  drop  all  that  nonsense.  {To  the  Aide-de- 
camp.) Is  the  priest  here?  {To  Boris.) 
Well?  (Boris  is  silent.)  Why  don't  you  an- 
swer ?  I  assure  you  I'm  advising  you  for  your  own 
good.  The  weakest  goes  to  the  wall.  You  can 
keep  your  own  Ideas  and  merely  serve  your  time. 
We  won't  be  hard  on  you.     Well? 

Boris. 
I  have  nothing  more  to  say.     I  have  said  every- 
thing. 

Generae. 
Just  now  you  said  that  there  were  such  and  such 
verses  In  the  Gospel.     Surely  the  priests  know 


152  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

that?  You'd  better  talk  that  over  with  the  priest, 
and  then  think  it  over.  That's  surely  the  best 
way.  Good-bye.  I  hope  to  meet  you  again  and 
be  able  to  congratulate  you  on  your  entrance  into 
the  service  of  the  Tsar.     Send  the  priest  here. 

{Exit   General   with    Colonel 
and  Aide-de-camp. X 

Boris. 
(to  soldiers  and  Clerk.)  You  see  how  they  talk. 
They  are  perfectly  aware  themselves  that  they  are 
deceiving  you.  Don't  give  in  to  them.  Throw 
down  your  arms.  Go  away.  Let  them  flog  you 
to  death  In  their  disciplinary  battalions.  Even 
that  is  better  than  to  be  the  slaves  of  these  Im- 
postors I 

Clerk. 
No,  that's  Impossible.     How  can  we  get  on 
without  the  army?     It  is  Impossible. 

Boris. 

We  must  not  reason  In  that  way.     We  must  do 
just  as  God  desires.     And  God  desires  us  to  — 

Soldier. 

Then  why  3o  they  call  It  the  "  Christ-serving 
Army?  " 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  153 

Boris. 
That  is  not  said  anywhere.     It's  the  Invention 
of  these  Impostors. 

Soldier. 
How  so  ?     The  bishops  must  know. 

{Enter    Police    Officer    with 
Stenographer.) 

Police  Officer. 
{to  Clerk.)     Is  Prince  Cheremshanov  the  re- 
cruit here? 

Clerk. 
Yes,  sir.     There  he  Is. 

Police  Officer. 
Please  step  this  way.     Are  you  the  Prince  Boris 
Cheremshanov  who  refused  to  take  the  oath? 

Boris. 
I  am  he. 

{Officer  sits  down  and  motions  to 
a  seat  opposite.) 

Police  Officei^. 
Please  sit  down. 

Boris. 
I  think  there's  no  use  In  our  talking. 

Police  Officer. 
I  don't  agree.     To  you  at  any  rate  it  may  be 


154  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

of  advantage.  You  see,  I  have  been  informed 
that  you  refused  military  service  and  refused  to 
take  the  oath,  which  raises  the  suspicion  that  you 
belong  to  the  revolutionary  party.  And  this  I 
have  to  Investigate.  If  this  is  true,  then  we  must 
remove  you  from  military  service  and  either  put 
you  In  prison  or  exile  you,  according  to  the  extent 
of  your  participation  in  the  revolutionary  move- 
ment. Otherwise  we  leave  you  to  the  military 
authorities.  Please  note  that  I  have  told  you 
everything  quite  frankly,  and  I  trust  you  will  show 
the  same  confidence  in  talking  to  us. 

Boris. 
In  the  first  place  I  cannot  have  any  confidence 
in  those  who  wear  that  (pointing  to  the  uniform.) 
In  the  second  place  your  very  office  Is  of  such  a 
nature  that  I  cannot  respect  it,  but,  on  the  con- 
trary, despise  It  from  my  heart.  But  I  will  not 
refuse  to  answer  your  questions.  What  Is  It  you 
want  to  know  ? 

Police  Officer. 
First,  please,  your  name,  rank,  and  religious 
faith. 

Boris. 
You  know  all  that,  so  that  I  will  not  answer. 
Only  one  of  those  questions  Is  of  any  importance 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  155 

to  me.     I  do  not  belong  to  the  so-called  Orthodox 
Church. 

Police  Officer. 
Then  what  Is  your  religion? 

Boris. 
I  cannot  define  It. 

Police  Officer. 
Stills 

Boris. 
Let  us  say  Christian,  founded  on  the  Sermon 
on  the  Mount. 

Police  Officer. 
Take  that  down. 

{Stenographer  writes.) 

Police  Officer. 
'{to  Boris.)'     But  you  acknowledge  that  you  be- 
long to  some  state,  some  class? 
Boris. 
I  do  not  admit  that.     I  consider  myself  a  man, 
a  servant  of  God. 

Police  Officer. 
But  why  do  you  not  recognise  your  allegiance 
to  the  Russian  State? 

Boris. 
Because  I  do  not  recognise  the  existence  of  any 
Jtate. 


156  .THE  LIGHT  THAT 

Police  Officer. 
What  do  you  mean  —  when  you  say  you  do  not 
recognise  it?     Do  you  want  to  destroy  it? 

Boris. 
Most  certainly  I  do,  and  I  work  to  that  end. 

Police  Officer. 
(to  Scribe.)     Take  that  down.    [{To  Boris.)] 
By  what  means  do  you  work? 

Boris. 
By  denouncing  deceit  and  lies,  and  by  spread- 
ing the  truth.  Just  now,  the  moment  before  you 
entered,  I  was  telling  these  soldiers  that  they 
must  not  believe  the  deceit  in  which  they  are  made 
to  share. 

Police  Officer. 
But  beside  these  measures  of  denunciation  and 
proselytising,  do  you  admit  other  means? 

Boris. 
I  not  only  exclude  violence,  but  I  consider  it 
the  greatest  sin,  and  all  underhand  actions  also. 

Police  Officer. 
(to  Scribe.)     Take  it  down.     Very  good.     Now 
allow  me  to  ask  you  about  your  acquaintances, 
your  friends.     Do  you  know  Ivashenkov? 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  157 

Boris. 
No. 

Police  Officer. 
And  Klein? 

Boris. 
I  have  heard  of  him,  but  I  have  never  seen  him. 

(Enter  Chaplain.) 

Police  Officer. 
Well,  I  think  that  is  all.     I  consider  that  you 
are  not  a  dangerous  person.     You  do  not  con- 
cern our  department.     I  hope  you  will  soon  be 
released.     Good-day.      {Shakes  hands.) 

Boris. 
There  is  one  thing  I  should  like  to  say  to  you. 
Excuse  me,  but  I  cannot  resist  saying  it.     Why 
have  you  chosen  such  a  bad  and  wicked  calling? 
I  would  advise  you  to  leave  it. 

Police  Officer. 
(smiling.)     Thank  you  for  your  advice:  I  have 
my  reasons.     Now,  father,  I'll  give  up  my  place 
to  you. 

^{The  priest,  an  old  man  with 
cross  and  Testament,  steps  for- 
ward. The  Scribe  advances  to 
receive  his  blessing.) 


158  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

Chaplain. 
(to  Boris.)     Why  do  you  grieve  your  superiors 
and  refuse  to  perform  the  duty  of  a  Christian 
by  serving  your  Tsar  and  country? 

Boris. 
(smiling.)     It  is  precisely  because  I  wish  to  per- 
form the  duties  of  a  Christian  that  I  do  not  wish 
to  be  a  soldier. 

Chaplain. 
Why  do  you  not  wish  it?     It  is  written,  "  Lay 
down  your  life  for  your  friends."     That  is  the 
part  of  a  true  Christian. 

Boris. 
Yes,  to  lay  down  your  own,  but  not  take  the 
life  of  others.     To  give  up  my  life  is  just  what 
I  wish. 

Chaplain. 
You  judge  wrongly,   young  man.     And  what 
did  Jesus  Christ  say  to  the  soldiers? 

Boris. 
(smiling.)     That  only  proves  that  even  in  His 
time  soldiers  plundered,   and  He  forbade  them 
to  do  so. 

Chaplain. 
Well  —  why  do  you  refuse  to  take  the  oath? 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  159 

Boris. 
You  know  It  Is  forbidden  in  the  Gospel. 

Chaplain. 

Not  at  all.     How  was  it  that  when  Pilate  said, 

"  In  the  name  of  God  I  ask  you,   are  you  the 

Christ?  "     Our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  answered,  "  I 

am  He."     That  proves  an  oath  is  not  forbidden. 

Boris. 
Are  you  not  ashamed  to  say  that,  you,  an  old 
man? 

Chaplain. 
I  advise  you  not  to  be  obstinate.     It  Is  not  for 
us  to  change  the  world.     Take  the  oath,  and  have 
done  with  it.     As  for  what  is  sin  and  what  Is  not 
sin,  leave  that  for  the  Church  to  decide. 

Boris. 
Leave  it  to  you?     Are  you  not  afraid  to  take 
such  a  weight  of  sin  upon  your  soul? 

Chaplain. 
What  sin?     I  have  always  been  true  to  the 
faith  In  which  I  was  educated.     I  have  been  a 
priest  now  for  over  thirty  years;  there  can  be  no 
sin  upon  my  soul. 

Boris. 
Then  whose  Is  the  sin  of  deceiving  so  many 


i6o  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

people?     .You  know  what  their  heads  are  full  of. 
(Points  to  the  sentry.) 

Chaplain. 
That,  young  man,  is  not  for  us  to  judge.     Our 
duty  Is  to  obey  our  superiors. 

Boris. 
Leave  me  alone.  I  pity  you,  and  what  you  say 
disgusts  me.  If  you  were  like  that  general  It 
would  not  be  so  bad.  But  you  come  with  cross 
and  Bible  to  try  to  persuade  me  In  the  name  of 
Christ  to  deny  Christ.  Go  —  go!  (Excitedly.)] 
Go.  Take  me  away  where  I  shall  see  no  one. 
I  am  tired  —  I  am  terribly  tired. 

Chaplain. 
Well,  good-bye. 

(Enter  Aide-de-camp.     Eoris  re- 
tires to  hack  of  scene.) 

Aide-de-camp. 
WeU? 

Chaplain. 
Great  stubbornness.     Great  Insubordination. 

Aide-de-camp. 
He  has  not  consented  to  take  the  oath  and  to 
serve  ? 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  i6r 

Chaplain. 
Not  in  the  least. 

Aide-de-camp. 
Then  I  shall  have  to  take  him  to  the  hospital. 

Chaplain. 
To  make  out  that  he  Is  111.     Of  course  that's 
the  best  way;  otherwise  his  example  might  be  bad 
for  the  rest. 

Aide-de-camp. 
He  will  be  examined  In  the  ward  for  mental 
ailments.     These  are  my  orders. 

Chaplain. 
Of  course.     Good-day.     (Exit,)' 
Aide-de-camp. 
[(approaching  Boris,)     Please  come  with  me.     I 
am  ordered  to  escort  you. 

Boris. 
Where  to? 

Aide-de-camp. 
Just  for  a  time,  to  the  hospital,  where  you  will 
be  more  comfortable,   and  will  have  leisure  to 
think  the  matter  over. 

Boris. 

I  have  thought  it  over  for  some  time.     But  let 
us  go.      (Exeunt.)' 


1 62  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

Scene  III 

Reception-room  in  the  Hospital. 

(Head  Physician  and  House 
Surgeon  and  Patients  in  hospi- 
tal dress.     Warders  in  blouses.) 

Sick  Officer. 
I  tell  you,  you  simply  make  me  worse.     There 
were  times  when  I  felt  quite  well. 

Head  Physician. 
Don't  get  so  excited.     I  am  quite  willing  to 
discharge  you,  but  you  know  yourself  that  it  is 
unsafe  for  you  to  be  at  liberty.     If  I  knew  that 
you  would  be  taken  care  of  ^-^ 

Sick  Officer. 
;You  think  I  shall  begin  to  drink  again.  Oh 
no  I  I've  learned  my  lesson.  Every  additional 
day  spent  here  is  simply  killing  me.  You  do  just 
the  contrary  to  what  {over  excited)  should  be 
done.  You  are  cruel.  It  is  all  very  well  for 
you — ■ 

Head  Physician. 
Calm  yourself.      {Makes  a  sign  to  WARDERS 
who  approach  the  Officer  from  behind.)^ 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  163 

Sick  Officer. 
It's  all  very  well  for  you  to  talk  when  you  are 
free.     But  how  do  you  think  I  feel  here  in  the 
company  of  lunatics?     {To  Warders.)     Why 
are  you  coming  so  near  to  me?     Get  away? 

Head  Physician. 
I  beg  you  to  be  ckpir  <uxXvx/^^ » 

Sick  Officer. 
And  I  beg,  I  insist  on  my  discharge.     {Shrieks^ 
rushes  at  doctor.     Warders  seize  him  *—  a  strug- 
gle—  they  lead  him  away.) 

House  Surgeon. 
Same  thing  all  over  again.     He  was  on  the 
point  of  striking  you. 

Head  Physician. 

Alcoholic  subject,   and   there's  nothing  to  be 
done  for  him.     Still  there  is  some  improvement. 

{Enter  Aide-de-camp.) 

Aide-de-camp. 
Good  morning. 

Head  Physician. 
Good  morning. 


i64  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

Aide-de-camp. 

I  have  brought  you  a  very  interesting  case.  A 
certain  Prince  Cheremshanov  was  to  do  his  mili- 
tary service,  and  refused  on  the  ground  of  the 
Gospel.  He  was  handed  over  to  the  police,  but 
they  found  him  outside  their  jurisdiction,  and  de- 
cided it  was  not  a  political  case.  The  chaplain 
talked  to  him,  but  without  the  slightest  effect. 

Head  Physician. 

(laughing,)'    And  as  usual  you  bring  him  to  us 
as  the  last  resort.     Well,  let's  have  a  look  at  him. 

(Exit  House  Surgeon.)^ 

Aide-de-camp. 
They  say  he  is  a  well-educated  fellow,  and  that 
he's  engaged  to  a  rich  girl.     It  is  very  strange.     I 
must  say  the  hospital  is  exactly  the  right  place  foi;   I 
him. 

Head  Physician. 
It  must  be  a  case  of  mania  f^^  \ 

(Boris  h  'Brouglii  in,)" 

Good  morning.     Please  sit  down.     We'll  have    h 
a  little  talk.      (To  the  others.)     Leave  us  alone.   I 

(Exeunt  all  save  Boris  and  Physician.)'       I 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  165 

Boris. 
I  would  like  to  ask  you,  if  you  are  going  to 
shut  me  up  somewhere,  to  do  it  as  quickly  as  pos- 
sible and  let  me  have  a  rest. 

Head  Physician. 
Excuse  me :  I  must  comply  with  the  regulations. 
I  will  merely  put  a  few  questions  to  you.     How 
do  you  feel?     From  what  are  you  suffering? 

Boris. 
There's  nothing  the  matter  with  me.    I  am 
perfectly  well. 

Head  Physician. 
Yes ;  but  your  conduct  is  different  from  the  con- 
duct of  others. 

Boris. 
I  am  acting  according  to  the  dictates  of  my 
conscience. 

Head  Physician. 
(You  have  refused  to  perform  your  military 
duty.     What  is  your  motive? 

Boris. 
I  am  a  Christian,  and  therefore  cannot  kill. 

Head  Physician. 
But  is  it  not  necessary  to  protect  the  country 


1 66  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

from    foreign    enemies,    and   restrain    from   evil 
those  who  disturb  the  peace  within? 

Boris. 

The  country  is  not  attacked  by  any  enemies, 
and  as  for  disturbers  of  the  peace  within  her  bor- 
ders, there  are  more  of  those  within  the  Govern- 
ment than  among  the  people  towards  whom  the 
Government  uses  violence. 

Head  Physician. 
What  do  you  mean  by  that? 

Boris. 

I  mean  that  the  chief  cause  of  evil  —  alcohol 
—  is  sold  by  the  Government;  a  false  religious 
creed  is  spread  by  the  Government;  and  the  very 
military  service,  such  as  I  am  required  to  perform, 
and  which  is  the  principal  means  of  corruption  in 
the  country,  is  required  by  the  Government. 

Head  Physician. 

Then,  according  to  your  views,  Government 
and  State  are  unnecessary. 

Boris. 

I  do  not  know;  but  I  am  quite  sure  I  must  not 
participate  in  these  evils. 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  167 

Head  Physician. 
But  what  will  become  of  the  world?     We  are 
given  a  mind  with  which  to  look  ahead. 

Boris. 
Yes,  and  we  are  also  given  common  sense  to  see 
that  the  organisation  of  society  shall  not  be 
founded  on  violence,  but  on  love,  and  that  the  re- 
fusal of  one  man  to  participate  in  evil  has  noth- 
ing dangerous  in  it  — 

Head  Physician. 
Now  please  let  me  make  an  examination.     Will 
you  kindly  lie  down?      {Begins  to  examine  him.) 
Do  you  feel  any  pain  here  ? 

Boris. 

No. 

Head  Physician. 

Nor  here  ? 

Boris. 

No. 

Head  Physician. 
Breathe.     Now    don't    breathe.     Thank   you. 
Now  allow  me.      ( Takes  out  a  measure  and  meas- 
ures his  nose  and  his  forehead.)      Now  be  so  kind 
as  to  shut  your  eyes  and  walk. 


1 68  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

Boris. 
Aren't  you  ashamed  to  do  all  that? 

Head  Physician. 
What? 

Boris. 

All  these  silly  things.  You  know  perfectly 
well  that  I'm  all  right,  and  have  been  sent  here 
for  refusing  to  take  part  in  their  wickedness,  and 
as  they  had  no  arguments  to  offer  in  opposition  to 
my  truth,  they  pretend  that  they  think  me  abnor- 
mal. And  you  aid  them  in  that!  That  is  des- 
picable and  disgraceful.     You'd  better  stop  it. 

Head  Physician. 
Then  you  do  not  wish  to  walk?. 

Boris. 

No,  I  do  not.  You  may  torment  me  as  much 
as  you  like.  That  is  your  business.  But  I  do  not 
wish  to  help  you  in  it.  {Vehemently,)  Stop  it, 
I  say! 

(Head  Physician  presses  a  hut- 
ton.     Two  Warders  enter.) 

Head  Physician. 
Be  calm,  please.     I  quite  understand  that  your 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  169 

nerves  are  rather  over-strained.     Would  you  not 
like  to  go  to  your  quarters? 

{Enter  House  Surgeon.) 

House  Surgeon. 
Visitors  have  come  for  Cheremshanov. 

Boris. 
Who  are  they? 

House  Surgeon. 
Sarintsev  and  his  daughter. 

Boris. 
I  should  like  to  see  them. 

Head  Physician. 
I  have  no  objection.     Ask  them  in.     iYou  may 
receive  them  here. 

{Enter  Nicholas  Ivanovich  and 
LuBA.  Princess  Cheremshanova 
puts  her  head  into  the  door,  saying, 
"  Go  in,  ril  come  later  J') 

LuBA. 
{goes  straight  to  BoRis^  takes  his  face  between 
her  hands,  and  kisses  him.)      Poor  Boris! 

Boris. 

No,  don't  pity  me.     I  feel  so  well  —  so  happy. 


I70  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

I  am  so  easy  In  my  mind.     (To  Nicholas  Ivan- 
OVICH.)      How  do  you  do?      {Embraces  him.) 

Nicholas. 

I  came  to  tell  you  something  Important.  In 
the  first  place,  It  Is  worse  In  such  cases  to  overdo 
it  than  to  do  too  little;  in  the  second  place,  you 
must  act  according  to  the  Gospel,  taking  no 
thought  as  to  your  future  words  and  acts.  When 
taken  before  the  authorities  *'  think  not  what  ye 
shall  say,  for  the  Holy  Ghost  will  'teach  you  in 
that  hour  what  ye  ought  to  say.'*  The  moment 
to  act  is  not  when  your  reason  dictates  this  or 
that,  but  only  when  your  whole  being  determines 
your  action.  ^ 

Boris. 
That's  just  what  I  did.  I  did  not  think  I 
should  refuse  to  serve.  But  when  I  saw  all  this 
falsehood,  the  emblem  of  justice,  the  documents, 
the  police,  and  the  members  of  the  Council  smok- 
ing—  I  could  not  help  speaking  as  I  did.  It 
seemed  a  terrible  thing  to  do,  but  only  till  I  began. 
Then  all  became  so  simple  and  delightful. 

(Luba  sits  weeping.) 

Nicholas. 
Above  all,  do  nothing  for  the  sake  of  the  praise 
of  men,  or  in  order  to  please  those  whose  esteem 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  171 

you  value.  As  for  myself,  I  tell  you  honestly  that 
if  you  took  the  oath  this  moment  and  entered  the 
army,  I  would  love  and  respect  you  no  less;  pos- 
sibly even  more  than  before,  because  it  is  not 
what  is  done  in  the  world  that  is  of  value,  but 
what  is  done  within  the  soul. 

Boris. 
That  is  certainly  so,  because  if  a  thing  is  done 
within  the  soul,  it  will  bring  about  a  change  in 
the  world. 

Nicholas. 
Well,  I  have  said  what  I  had  to  say.     Your 
mother  is  here,  and  she  is  quite  broken-hearted. 
If  you  can  do  what  she  desires,  do  it.     That  Is 
what  I  wanted  to  tell  you. 

(In  the  corridor  frightful  scream- 
ing of  the  lunatics.  One  lunatic 
bursts  into  the  room.  Warders  fol- 
low and  drag  him  away.)^ 

LUBA. 

This  IS  dreadful!     And  you  will  have  to  be 
here  I     {Weeps.) 

Boris. 
This  doesn't  frighten  me.     Nothing  frightens 
me  now.     I  feel  at  peace.     The  only  thing  that  I 


172  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

fear  is  your  attitude  to  all  this.     Help  me  —  Fm 
sure  you  will  help  me. 

LUBA. 

How  can  I  be  glad? 

Nicholas. 
Be  glad.     That  is  Impossible.     Neither  am  I 
glad.     I  suffer  for  him  and  would  willingly  take 
his  place.     But  I  am  suffering,  and  yet  I  know 
that  it  is  for  the  best. 

LuBA. 
For  the  best !     When  will  they  let  him  go  ? 

Boris. 
No  one  knows.     I  am  not  thinking  about  the 
future;   the  present  is  joyful.     And  you   could 
make  it  still  more  so. 

{Enter  Princess.) 

Princess. 
I  can  wait  no  longer.  ( To  Nicholas  Ivano- 
VICH.)  Well,  have  you  persuaded  him?  Are 
you  willing,  Boris  darling?  You  must  know  how 
I  have  suffered.  Thirty  years  of  my  life  have 
been  given  to  you.  To  bring  you  up  and  be  so 
proud  of  you,  and  then  when  all  is  ready  and  fin- 
ished, suddenly  to  give  up  everything.  Prison, 
disgrace  I     No,  Boris  r^ 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  173 

Boris. 
Listen,  mother. 

Princess. 
(to   Nicholas   Ivanovich.)     Why   don't  you 
say   something?     You   have   brought   about   his 
ruin,   and  you  ought  to  persuade  him.     It's  all 
very  well  for  you.     Luba,  speak  to  him! 

LUBA. 

What  can  I  do? 

Boris. 

Mother,  try  to  understand  that  some  things  are 
impossible.  Just  as  it  is  impossible  to  fly,  so  it 
Is  impossible  for  me  to  serve  in  the  army. 

Princess. 
You  only  imagine  you  cannot!  It's  all  non- 
sense. Others  have  served,  and  are  serving  now. 
You  and  Nicholas  Ivanovich  have  invented  a  new 
Christian  creed  that  Is  not  Christian  at  all.  It  ls_ 
a^  diabolical  creed^  that  causes  suffering  to  every 
one  around  you. 

Boris. 
So  it  is  written  in  the  Gospel. 

Princess. 
Nothing  of  that  sort  is  said.     And  if  it  is,  it's 


174  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

simply  stupid.  Boris  darling,  spare  me  I  \Falls 
on  his  neck  and  sobs.)  My  whole  life  has  been 
full  of  sorrow.  You  have  been  my  only  gleam 
of  gladness,  and  now  you  turn  it  into  anguish. 
Boris,  have  pity  I 

Boris. 
It  is  very,  very  painful  to  me,  mother,  but  I 
cannot  promise  you  that. 

Princess. 
Do  not  refuse.     Say  you  will  try  I 

Nicholas. 
Say  you  will  think  it  over,  and  do  think  it  over. 

Boris. 
Very  well  - —  I  will  do  that.     But  have  pity  on 
me,  also,  mother.     It  is  hard  for  me  too. 

[{Again  "desperate  screams  in  a  corridor,^ 

I  am  in  a  lunatic  asylum,  you  see,  and  I  may  lose 
my  reason. 

(Enter  Head  Physician.) 

Head  Physician. 
Madame,    this    may   have    the   worst    results. 
Your  son  is  in  a  very  excited  state.     I  think  we 
had  better  consider  the  visit  at  an  end.     The  reg- 
ular visiting  day  is  Thursday  before  twelve. 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  175 

Princess. 
Well,  well,  I  will  go.     Good-bye,  Boris.     Only 
do  think  It  over.     Spare  me,  and  on  Thursday 
meet  me  with  good  news.      (Kisses  him,)  - 

Nicholas. 
(shaking  hands  with  him.)     Think  it  over,  with 
God's  help,  as  If  to-morrow  you  were  going  to  die. 
That  Is  the  only  way  to  make  the  right  decision. 
Good-bye. 

Boris. 
[(approaching  LuBA.)     What  are  you  going  to 
say  to  me? 

LUBA. 

What  can  I  say?  I  cannot  be  untruthful.  I 
do  not  understand  why  you  torture  yourself  and 
others.  I  do  not  understand,  and  there  is  noth- 
ing I  can  say.     (Weeps,) 

[(They  all  go,) 

Boris. 
(alone.y     Oh,  how  difficult,  how  difficult  It  is  I 
God  help  me! 

(Enter  Warders  with  hospital  attire,) 

Warder. 
Will  you  please  put  this  on? 

Boris. 
(begins  to  change — then.)     No,  I  will  not! 
(They  change  his  garments  by  force,) 


ACT  ly 

Scene  I 

Moscow.  ^A  year  has  passed  since  the  third 
act.  Big  drawing-room  with  piano  arranged  for 
dancing  party  in  Sarintsev's  house.  Footman  ar- 
ranges flowers  in  front  of  piano,  A  Christmas 
tree, 

{Enter  Marie  Ivanovna  in  ele- 
gant silk  dress,  with  Alexandra 
Ivanovna.) 

Marie. 

It  isn't  a  ball.  It  is  only  a  small  dance.  A 
party,  as  we  used  to  say,  for  the  young  people.  I 
can't  let  my  children  go  out  to  dances  and  never 
give  a  party  myself. 

Alexandra. 
I'm  afraid  Nicholas  will  be  displeased. 

Marie. 

What  can  I  do?  {To  Footman.)  Put  it 
here.  Heaven  knows  I  do  not  want  to  grieve 
him.  But  I  think  he  is  less  exacting  now,  on  the 
whole. 

176 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  177 

Alexandra. 
Oh  no  I     Only  he  does  not  talk  about  It.     He 
seemed  quite  upset  when  he  went  to  his  room 
after  dinner. 

Marie. 
But  what  Is  to  be  done?  what  Is  to  be  done? 
We  must  all  live.  There  are  six  children,  and  If 
I  did  not  provide  some  amusement  for  them  at 
home,  Heaven  knows  what  they  would  do.  At 
any  rate,  I  am  happy  about  Luba. 

Alexandra. 
Has  he  proposed? 

Marie. 
Practically.     He  has  spoken  to  her  and  she  has 
accepted  him. 

Alexandra. 
That  win  be  another  awful  blow  for  him. 

Marie. 
But  he  knows.     He  cannot  help  knowing. 

Alexandra. 
He  does  not  like  him. 

Marie. 
{to  Footman.)     Put  the  fruit  on  the  side-board. 
Whom    do    you    mean?     Alexis    MIkhallovIch? 


178  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

Of  course  not,  for  he  is  the  embodied  negation  of 
all  his  theories  —  a  man  of  the  world,  nice,  kind, 
agreeable.  Oh,  that  awful  nightmare  of  Boris 
Cheremshanov I     How  is  he  now? 

Alexandra. 
Lisa  has  been  to  see  him.     He's  still  there. 
She  says  he  has  grown  very  thin,  and  the  doctors 
are  anxious  about  his  life  or  reason. 

Marie. 
He  is  a  victim  of  his  dreadful  theories.     His 
life  ruined  —  to  what  end?     It  certainly  was  not 
my  wish. 

{Enter  PiANiST.) 
You  have  come  to  play  for  the  dancing? 

Pianist. 
Yes,  I  am  the  pianist. 

Marie. 

Please  sit  down  and  wait.     Will  you  have  some 
tea? 

Pianist. 
No,  thank  you.     {Goes  to  piano,) 

Marie. 
I  never  wished  it.     I  was  fond  of  Boris.     But 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  179 

of  course  he  was  no  match  for  Luba,  especially 
after  taking  up  with  Nicholas's  ideas. 

Alexandra. 
Still,  his  strength  of  conviction  is  extraordinary. 
iWhat  agony  he  has  been  through!  They  tell 
him  that  if  he  will  not  give  in  he  must  stay  where 
he  is  or  else  be  sent  to  the  fortress,  and  he  gives 
them  but  one  answer.  And  Lisa  says  he's  so 
happy,  even  merry. 

Marie. 
Fanatic!     Oh,  there's  Alexis  Mikhailovich ! 

{Enter  the  brilliant  Alexis 
Mikhailovich  Starkovsky  in 
evening  dress.) 

Starkovsky. 
I  have  come  early.      {Kisses  the  hands  of  both 
ladies. ) 

Marie. 
So  much  the  better. 

Starkovsky. 
And  Lubov  Nicolaevna  ?     She  said  she  was  go- 
ing to  dance  a  lot  to  make  up  for  what  she  had 
missed.     I  volunteered  to  help  her. 

Marie. 
She  is  arranging  the  favours  for  the  cotillion. 


1 80  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

Starkovsky. 
ril  go  and  help  her.     May  I? 

Marie. 
Certainly. 

(Starkovsky  turns  to  go,  and 
meets  Luba  coming  toward  him  car- 
rying a  cushion  on  which  are  stars 
and  ribbons,  LuBA  in  evening 
dress,  not  low-necked,) 

Luba. 
Oh,  there  you  are!     That's  right.     Do  help 
me.     There  are  two  more  cushions  In  the  draw- 
ing-room, bring  them  here.     How  do  you  do! 
How  do  you  do  I 

Starkovsky. 
I  am  off  I     {Goes.) 

Marie. 
{to  Luba.)     Listen,  Luba.     To-night  our  guests 
are  sure  to  make  Insinuations  and  ask  questions. 
May  we  announce  It? 

Luba. 
No,  mother,  no.     Why?     Let  them  ask.     It 
would  grieve  father. 

Marie. 
But  he  must  know,  or  at  least  guess.     And  we 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  i8i 

shall  have  to  tell  him  sooner  or  later.  I  really 
think  It  Is  best  to  announce  It  to-night.  It  Is  a 
farcical  secret. 

LUBA. 

No,  no,  mother  —  please  I     It  would  spoil  the 
whole  evening.     No,  don't  I 

Marie. 
[Very  well,  as  you  like. 

LUBA. 
Or,  anyhow,  not  till  the  end  of  the  evening, 
just  before  supper.     (Calling  out,)     Well,   are 
you  bringing  them?) 

Marie. 
I  will  go  and  see  to  Natasha. 

(Exit  with  Anna  Ivanovna.) 

Starkovsky. 

(brings  three  cushions ^  the  top  one  under  his  chin, 
and  lets  something  drop.)  Don't  you  trouble, 
Lubov  Nicolaevna.  I'll  pick  them  up.  I  say, 
what  a  lot  of  favours  you've  got!  The  thing  is 
to  distribute  them  properly!     Vania,  come  here. 

(Enter  Vania^  carrying  more  fa^ 
vours,) 


1 82  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

Vania. 
That's  the  last  of  them.     Luba,  Alexis  Mik- 
hallovlch  and  I  have  got  a  bet  on  as  to  who  will 
get  most  favours. 

Starkovsky. 
It's  very  easy  for  you.     You  know  everybody, 
so  you  are  sure  of  theirs  in  advance.     I  must  win 
the  girls  before  I  can  get  any  favours  at  all.     So 
I  have  a  handicap  of  forty  points,  you  see. 

Vania. 
But  you  are  grown  up,  and  Vm  only  a  boy. 

Starkovsky. 
Fm  not  very  grown  up,  and  so  I  am  worse  than 
a  boy. 

Luba. 
Vania,  please  go  to  my  room  and  bring  me  the 
paste  and  my  needle-case;  they're  on  the  shelf. 
But  for  mercy's  sake  don't  break  the  watch  there. 

Vania. 
{running  of.)     I'll  break  everything. 

Starkovsky. 
(takes  Luba's  hand.)     May  I,  Luba?     I  am  so 
happy.      (Kisses    her   hand.)     The    mazurka    is 
mine,  but  that  isn't  enough.     There  isn't  time  in 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  183 

the  mazurka  to  say  much,  and  I  have  a  great  deal 
to  say.  May  I  telegraph  to  my  people  and  tell 
them  you  have  accepted  me  and  how  happy  I  am  ? 

LUBA. 

Yes,  you  can  do  it  to-night. 

Starkovsky. 
One  word  more.     How  will  Nicholas  Ivano- 
vich  take  the  news  ?     Have  you  told  him  ?     Have 
you  told  him?     Yes? 

LuBA. 
No,  I  have  not,  but  I  will.     He  will  take  it  just 
as  he  takes  everything  now  that  concerns  his  fam- 
ily.    He  will  say,  ''  Do  as  you  like."     But  in  his 
heart  he  will  be  grieved. 

Starkovsky. 
Because  I  am  not  Cheremshanov  —  because  I 
am  a  chamberlain,  a  marshal  of  nobility? 

LUBA. 

Yes.  But  I  have  tried  to  fight  against  myself 
r — to  deceive  myself  for  his  sake.  And  it  is  not 
because  I  do  not  love  him  that  I  do  not  follow  his 
wishes,  but  because  I  cannot  act  a  lie.  And  he 
says  himself  that  one  should  not.  I  long  to  live 
my  own  life! 


1 84  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

Starkovsky. 
Life  Is  the  only  truth  there  Is.     What  has  be- 
come of  Cheremshanov? 

LUBA. 

(agitated.)  Do  not  talk  to  me  about  him.  I 
want  to  find  fault  with  him  even  when  he  is  suffer- 
ing. I  know  It  Is  because  I  am  to  blame  about 
him.  But  one  thing  I  do  know:  that  there  Is 
such  a  thing  as  love  —  real  love  ^-^  and  that  I 
never  had  for  him. 

Starkovsky. 
Do  you  really  mean  It,  Luba  ? 

LUBA. 

You  want  me  to  say  that  It  is  you  that  I  love 
with  a  real  love?  I  will  not  say  that.  I  cer- 
tainly love  you.  .  .  .  But  it  is  a  different  kind  of 
love.  Neither  of  them  is  the  real  thing.  If  I 
could  only  put  them  both  together.  .  .  • 

Starkovsky. 
Oh  no,  Tm  quite  content  with  mine.     [{Kisses 
her  hand.)      Luba  I 

LuBA. 
(moving  from   him.)     No;   we  must  talk  this 
over.     You  see,  the  guests  are  beginning  to  ar- 
rive. 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  185. 

{Enter    Countess    with.    Xonia 
and  a  younger  girL), 
Mother  will  be  here  directly. 

Countess. 
We  are  the  first  then? 

Starkovsky. 
Somebody  must  be  first.     I  offered  to  make  an 
india-rubber  lady  to  be  the  first  arrival. 

{Enter    Stephen    with    Vania, 
who  brings  the  paste  and  needles,) ^ 

Stephen. 
{to  ToNiA.)     I  hoped  to  see  you  last  night  at  thp 
Italian  opera. 

TONIA. 

We  were  at  my  aunt's,  sewing  for  the  poor. 

{Enter   Students,   Ladies,   and 
Marie  Ivanovna.)^ 

Countess. 
{to  Marie  Ivanovna.)     Shall  we  not  see  Nich- 
olas Ivanovich? 

Marie. 
No;  he  never  leaves  his  rooms. 

Stephen. 
How  did  Cheremshanov's  affair  end? 


1 86  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

Marie. 
He  IS  still  in  the  asylum,  poor  boy. 

Countess. 
What  obstinacy! 

One  of  the  Guests. 
What  an  extraordinary  delusion  I     What  good 
can  come  of  It? 

Student. 
Take  your  partners  for  tfie  quadrille,  please  I 

(Claps  his  hands.  They  take  up 
their  positions  and  dance.  Enter 
Alexandra  Ivanovna,  and  walks 
up  to  her  sister.) 

Alexandra. 
He  IS  frightfully  excited.  He  has  been  to  see 
Boris,  and  on  returning  he  saw  the  dancing  going 
on.  He  wants  to  go  away.  I  went  up  to  his 
door,  and  heard  his  conversation  with  Alexander 
Petrovich. 

Marie. 
What  did  they  say? 

Voice  from  the  Dance. 
Rond  des  dames,     Les  cavaliers  en  avant. 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  187 

Alexandra. 
He  has  made  up  his  mind  that  he  cannot  pos- 
sibly continue  to  live  here,  and  he  is  going  away. 

Marie. 
XVhat  a  torment  that  man  is! 

{Exit  Marie  Ivanovna.) 


Scene  II 

Nicholas  Ivanovich's  room.  Music  is 
heard  from  afar.  He  has  his  coat  on,  and  puts  a 
letter  on  the  table.  With  him  is  a  tramp,  Alex- 
ander Petrovich,  in  rags, 

Alexander. 
Don't  be  uneasy.     We  can  get  to  the  Caucasus 
without  a  penny;  and  when  we  are  once  there  you 
can  arrange  matters. 

Nicholas. 
We  will  take  the  train  to  Tula,  and  then  we 
will  go  on  foot.  Now,  we're  ready.  {Puts  the 
letter  in  the  middle  of  the  table,  and  goes  to- 
wards the  door.  Meets  Marie  Ivanovna,  who 
enters.) 

Nicholas. 
What  have  you  come  for? 


1 88  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

Marie. 
To  see  what  you  are  doing. 

Nicholas. 
I  am  suffering  terribly. 

Marie. 
What  have  I  come  for?     Not  to  let  you  do  a 
cruel  thing.     Why  do  you  do  it?     What  have  I 
done? 

Nicholas. 
Why?     Because  I  cannot  go  on  living  like  this; 
I  cannot  endure  this  horrible  life  of  depravity  I 

Marie. 
But  this  is  awful.  You  call  my  life,  which  I 
devote  to  you  and  to  the  children,  depraved! 
{Noticing  the  presence  of  Alexander  Petro- 
VICH.)  Renvoyez  an  moins  cet  homme.  Je  ne 
veux  pas  qv!il  soit  temoin  de  cette  conversation. 

Alexander. 

{in  broken  French.)     Comprenez  toujour s  mot 
parte, 

Nicholas. 
Wait  for  me  outside,  Alexander  Petrovich.     I 
will  come  directly. 

■{Exit  Alexander  Petrovich.)^ 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  (189 

Marie. 
What  can  you  have  in  common  with  that  man? 
Why  he  is  more  to  you  than  your  wife  passes  all 
comprehension.     Where  do  you  intend  to  go? 

Nicholas. 
I  was  leaving  a  letter  for  you.     I  did  not  want 
to  talk  about  it.     It  is  too  painful.     But  if  you 
wish  I  will  try  to  tell  you  calmly  what  is  in  it. 

Marie. 
No;  I  absolutely  cannot  understand  why  you 
hate  and  punish  the  wife  who  has  given  up  every- 
thing for  you.  Can  you  say  that  I  go  out  into 
society,  that  I  love  dress  or  flirtations  ?  No !  my 
whole  life  has  been  devoted  to  my  family.  I 
nursed  all  my  children  myself;  I  brought  them 
up  myself;  and  during  these  last  years  the  whole 
burden  of  their  education  and  all  the  manage- 
ment of  our  affairs  has  fallen  on  me. 

Nicholas. 

'(interrupting.y  But  all  the  weight  of  that  Bur- 
den is  due  to  your  refusal  to  lead  the  life  I  pro- 
posed. 

Marie. 

But  what  you  proposed  was  impossible.     AsK 
anybody!     I  could  not  let  the  children  grow  up 


I90  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

illiterate,  as  you  desired;  and  I  could  not  do  the 
cooking  and  the  washing  with  my  own  hands. 

Nicholas. 
I  never  asked  you  to. 

Marie. 
Well,  something  very  like  it.  You  call  your- 
self a  Christian,  and  you  want  to  do  good  in  the 
world.  You  say  you  love  humanity.  Then  why 
do  you  torment  the  woman  who  has  given  her 
whole  life  to  you? 

Nicholas. 
In  what  way  am  I  tormenting  you?     I  love 
you,  but  — 

Marie. 
Is  it  not  tormenting  me  to  leave  me  and  to  go 
away?     What  will  all  the  world  say?     One  of 
the  two  —  either  that  I  am  a  bad,  wicked  woman, 
or  that  you  are  mad. 

Nicholas. 
Let  them  say  I  am  mad  then.     I  cannot  live 
like  this. 

Marie. 
Why  IS  it  so  terrible  that  I  should  give  a  party? 
* —  the  only  one  during  the  whole  season,  for  fear 
of  grieving  you?     I  only  did  it  because  every  one 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  191 

said  it  was  a  necessity.  Ask  Mary,  ask  Varvara 
Vasillevna.  You  treat  this  as  a  crime,  and  make 
me  suffer  disgrace  for  it.  It  is  not  so  much  the 
disgrace  I  mind.  The  worst  of  it  is  that  you  do 
not  love  me  —  you  love  the  whole  world,  even 
that  drunkard  Alexander  Petrovich.  .  .  . 
But  I  still  love  you  —  I  cannot  live  without  you. 
What  have  I  done?  what  have  I  done?  {She 
weeps,) 

Nicholas. 

You  will  not  understand  my  life  r-^  my  spiritual 
life. 

Marie. 

I  do  want  to,  but  I  can't.  I  only  see  that  your 
idea  of  Christianity  makes  you  hate  your  family, 
and  hate  me.     Why,  I  do  not  understand. 

Nicholas. 
But  others  understand. 

Marie. 
Who?     Alexander  Petrovich,  who  gets  money 
from  you? 

Nicholas. 
He  and  Ermllovlch,  Tonia,  and  Vasily.     But 
that   is    immaterial.     If   no    one   understood,   it 
would  alter  nothing. 

Marie. 
Vasily  Ermilovich  has  repented,  and  has  re- 


i9«  iTHE  LIGHT  THAT 

turned  to  his  parish,  and  at  this  very  moment 
Tonia  Is  dancing  and  flirting  with  Stephen. 

Nicholas. 
I  am  very  sorry.  But  this  cannot  make  black 
white,  nor  can  It  change  my  life.  Masha,  you 
do  not  need  me  —  let  me  go  I  I  have  tried  to 
take  part  In  your  life  —  to  bring  Into  It  the  thing 
that  Is  life  to  me  —  but  It  cannot  be  done.  The 
only  result  Is  that  I  torture  both  you  and  myself; 
and  It  is  not  only  torture  to  me,  but  It  ruins 
everything  I  attempt.  Everybody  —  even  that 
very  Alexander  Petrovlch  —  has  the  right  to  say, 
and  does  say,  that  I  am  an  Impostor:  that  I  say 
one  thing  and  do  another;  that  I  preach  the  pov- 
erty of  Christ  and  live  In  luxury,  under  cover  of 
having  given  everything  to  my  wife. 

Marie. 
Then  you  are  ashamed  of  yourself  before  the 
world?     Are  you  not  above  that  J 

Nicholas. 

It  Is  not  that  I  am  ashamed  of  myself  —  though 
I  certainly  am  —  but  that  I  am  hindering  the  work 
of  God. 

Marie. 

You  say  yourself  that  the  work  of  God  goes  on 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  193 

in  spite  of  all  opposition.     But  leaving  that  aside, 
tell  me  what  you  want  me  to  do. 

Nicholas. 
I  have  told  you. 

Marie. 
But,  Nicholas,  you  know  that  that  is  impossi- 
ble. Think  of  it.  Luba  Is  just  going  to  be  mar- 
ried, Vania  has  entered  the  university,  and  Missie 
and  Katia  are  at  school :  how  could  I  interrupt  all 
that? 

Nicholas. 
But  I?     What  am  I  to  do? 

Marie. 
Practise  what  you  preach:   endure   and   love. 
Is  that  so  difficult?     Only  put  up  with  us  —  do 
not  deprive  us  of  yourself  I     What  is  It  that  dis- 
tresses you  so? 

(Vania  rushes  in,) 

Vania. 
Mother,  you  are  wanted. 

Marie. 
Say  I  can't  come.     Go;  go  away, 

Vania. 
Please  come! 

\Exit.) 


194  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

Nicholas. 
You  will  not  see  my  point  of  view,  and  under- 
stand me. 

Marie. 
I  only  wish  I  could. 

Nicholas. 

No,  you  do  not  wish  to  understand;  and  we  are 
growing  further  and  further  apart.  Put  yourself 
in  my  place  for  a  moment  and  think,  and  you 
will  understand.  In  the  first  place,  life  here  is 
depraved  —  such  words  anger  you,  but  I  can  use 
no  other  when  speaking  of  a  life  founded  on  rob- 
bery —  because  the  money  you  live  on  comes  from 
the  land  you  have  stolen  from  the  people.  Be- 
sides, I  see  how  the  children  are  being  corrupted 
by  it.  "  Woe  to  him  who  offends  one  of  these 
little  ones !  " —  and  before  my  very  eyes  I  see  my 
children  ruined  and  corrupted.  Ndr  can  I  bear 
to  see  grown  men  dressed  up  in  swallow-tailed 
coats  serving  us  as  though  they  were  slaves. 
Every  meal  is  a  misery. 

Marie. 

But  it  has  always  been  so.  It  is  so  in  all 
houses  —  abroad  and  everywhere. 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  195 

Nicholas. 

Since  I  have  realised  that  we  are  all  brothers, 
I  cannot  look  on  without  pain. 

Marie. 

It  is  your  own  fault.     One  can  imagine  any- 
thing. 

Nicholas. 

(hotly.)  This  want  of  understanding  is  awful. 
To-day  I  spent  the  morning  among  the  scavengers 
in  the  Rijanov  Night  Lodgings.  I  saw  a  child 
dying  of  starvation;  a  boy  that  had  become  a 
drunkard;  a  consumptive  laundress  going  to  rinse 
her  linen  in  the  river:  and  I  come  home  and  a 
footman  in  a  white  tie  opens  my  front  door  to  me. 
I  hear  my  son,  a  young  boy,  tell  that  footman  to 
bring  him  a  glass  of  water,  and  I  see  a  regiment 
of  servants  that  work  for  us.  Then  I  go  to 
Boris,  ^ho  is  giving  up  his  life  for  the  truth,  and 
I  see  this  pure,  strong,  resolute  man  deliberately 
driven  to  madness  and  to  death  In  order  that  they 
may  get  rid  of  him.  I  know,  and  they  know,  that 
he  has  organic  heart  trouble;  and  they  provoke 
him,  and  then  put  him  among  raving  maniacs! 
Oh,  it  is  awful !  And  now  I  return  home  to  learn 
that  my  daughter- — the  only  one  of  my  family 
who    understood   not   me,    but   the   truth  —  has 


196  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

thrown  over  both  the  truth  and  the  man  she  was 
engaged  to,  and  had  promised  to  love,  and  is  go- 
ing to  marry  a  flunkey  —  a  liar. 

Marie. 
What  a  very  Christian  sentiment  I 

Nicholas. 
Yes,  It  Is  wrong.     I  am  to  blame,     But  I  want 
you  to  enter  Into  my  feeling.     I  only  say  that  she 
has  repudiated  the  truth. 

Marie. 
You  say  the  truth.     The  rest,  the  majority,  say 
error.     Vasily  Ermllovlch  thought  he  had  gone 
astray,  but  now  he  returned  to  the  Church. 

Nicholas. 
It  Is  impossible. 

Marie. 
He  wrote  all  about  It  to  Lisa,  and  she  will 
show  you  the  letter.     These  things  do  not  last. 
It's  the  same  with  Tonia,  not  to  mention  Alex- 
ander Petrovlch,  who  simply  finds  it  profitable. 

Nicholas. 
(getting  angry.)     That   Is   Immaterial.     I   only 
want  you  to  understand  me.     I  still  consider  that 
truth  remains  truth.     It  is  painful  to  me  to  come 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  197 

home  and  see  a  Christmas  tree,  a  ball,  hundreds 
squandered  when  others  are  dying  of  hunger.  I 
can  not  live  like  this!  Have  mercy  on  me!  I 
am  worn  out.  Let  me  go  I  Good-bye. 
Marie. 
If  you  go,  I  go  with  you;  and  If  not  with  you,  I 
will  throw  myself  under  your  train.  Let  them  all 
perish  —  all  —  MIssIe  —  Katia  —  all  of  them. 
My  God,  my  God,  what  anguish!     Why  Is  It? 

{Sohhing.) 
Nicholas. 
{calling    at    the    door.)      Alexander    Petrovlch! 
Go.     I    shall   not   go    with    you.     I    shall    stay. 
{Takes  of  his  coat.) 

Marie. 
We  have  not  much  longer  to  live.     Do  not  let 
us  spoil  our  life  after  twenty-eight  years  together. 
I  will  not  give  any  more  parties,  but  do  not  pain 
me  so! 

(Vania  and  Katia  rush  in.) 
Both. 
Mother,  come  quick! 

Marie. 
Fm  coming  —  I'm  coming!     Then  let  us  for- 
give each  other. 

{Exeunt    Marie   Ivanovna   and 
Children.) 


198  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

Nicholas. 
(alone.)  A  child  —  a  perfect  child!  Or  —  a 
cunning  woman  I  Ah,  yes  —  a  cunning  child. 
That  is  It  I  O  Thou  dost  not  desire  me  for  Thy 
servant.  Thou  wouldest  humiliate  me  that  all 
should  point  at  me  and  say,  "  He  talks  but  he  does 
not  act."  I  submit.  He  knows  best  what  He  de- 
sires. Humility,  simplicity.  Oh  I  if  I  could  only 
raise  myself  to  Him.     {Enter  Lisa.) 

Lisa. 
Excuse  me:  I  came  to  bring  you  a  letter  from 
Vasily  Ermilovich.     It  was  written  to  me,  but 
he  wanted  me  to  tell  you  about  it. 

Nicholas. 
Is  It  really  true  then? 

Lisa. 
Yes.     Read  what  he  says. 

Nicholas. 
Will  you  read  It  to  me? 

Lisa. 
(reading.)      "I  am  writing  to  ask  you  to  com- 
municate   this    to    Nicholas    Ivanovich.     I    pro- 
foundly regret  the  error  which  made  me  openly 
renounce  the  Holy  Orthodox  Church,  and  I  re- 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  199 

joice  in  my  return.  I  wish  the  same  for  you  and 
for  Nicholas  Ivanovich,  and  I  ask  your  forgive- 
ness." 

Nicholas. 

They  have  driven  the  poor  man  to  this,  but  still 
it  is  terrible. 

Lisa. 
I  wanted  to  tell  you  also  that  the  Princess  has 
come.  She  came  into  my  room  in  a  terrible  state 
of  excitement,  and  says  she  must  see  you.  She 
has  just  come  from  Boris.  I  think  you  had  bet- 
ter not  see  her.     What  good  could  it  do? 

Nicholas. 
No,  call  her  in.     Evidently  this  is  to  be  a  ter- 
rible day  of  trial. 

Lisa. 

Then  I'll  call  her.     (Exit.) 

Nicholas. 
(alone.)  Oh,  just  to  remember  that  life  consists 
in  serving  Thee!  To  remember  that  if  Thou 
sendest  trials  to  me,  it  is  that  Thou  thinkest  that 
I  am  able  to  bear  them;  that  they  are  not  above 
my  strength,  otherwise  it  would  not  be  a  trial. 
Father,  help  me  —  help  me  to  do  Thy  will,  and 
not  my  own. 

(Enter  Princess.) 


200  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

Princess. 
Oh,    so    you    have    admitted    me — ^you    have 
deigned  to  receive  me.     I  will  not  shake  your 
hand,  because  I  hate  and  despise  you. 

Nicholas. 
What  has  happened? 

Princess. 

Just  this!  He  Is  being  transferred  to  the  dis- 
ciplinary battalion,  and  It  Is  your  doing. 

Nicholas. 

Princess,  If  you  want  anything,  tell  me  what  It 
Is.  If  you  have  only  come  to  abuse  me,  you  are 
merely  doing  yourself  harm.  As  for  me,  you 
cannot  offend  me,  because  I  sympathise  with  you, 
and  pity  you  with  all  my  soul. 

Princess. 
How  charitable!  Sublime  Christianity  1  No, 
Monsieur  Sarintsev,  you  cannot  deceive  me.  I 
know  you  now.  It  Is  nothing  to  you  that  you 
have  ruined  my  son,  and  here  you  are  giving  balls. 
Your  daughter,  who  is  engaged  to  my  son.  Is 
about  to  make  a  match  of  which  you  approve, 
while  you  pretend  to  lead  the  simple  life  —  you 
play  at  carpentering.  How  hateful  you  are  to 
me,  with  your  pharisalcal  life  I 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  201 

Nicholas. 
Calm  yourself,  Princess,  and  tell  me  what  you 
want.     You  have  not  come  simply  to  abuse  me. 

Princess. 
Yes,  partly.  I  had  to  pour  out  my  anguish. 
What  I  want  of  you  is  this :  they  are  sending  him 
to  the  disciplinary  battalion,  and  I  cannot  bear 
that.  And  it  is  you  who  have  done  It' — you- — ; 
you  —  you  I 

Nicholas. 

Not  I  —  God  has  done  It.  And  God  knows 
how  I  pity  you.  Do  not  set  yourself  in  opposi- 
tion to  the  will  of  God.  He  Is  testing  you.  Bear 
It  humbly. 

Princess. 

I  cannot  bear  It  humbly.  My  son  Is  all  the 
world  to  me,  and  you  have  taken  him  from  me 
and  have  ruined  him.  I  cannot  accept  it  quietly. 
I  have  come  to  you,  and  I  tell  you  again,  and  for 
the  last  time,  that  you  have  brought  about  his 
ruin,  and  you  must  save  him.  Go  and  obtain  his 
release  —  go  to  the  authorities,  to  the  Tsar,  to 
whomever  you  will.  It  is  your  duty.  If  you 
will  not,  I  know  what  I  shall  do.  You  will  an- 
swer to  me  for  what  you  have  done. 


202  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

Nicholas. 
Tell  me  what  I  am  to  do.     I  am  willing  to  do 
all  I  can. 

Princess. 
I  repeat  once  more,  you  must  save  him.     If  you 
do  not  —  remember.     Good-bye.      (Exit.) 

(Nicholas  lies  down  on  the  sofa. 
Silence.  Pause.  Music  of  ''  Gross- 
vater's  Tanz ''  is  distinctly  heard.) 

Stephen. 
Father  isn't  here.     Come  on. 

{Enter  chain  of  dancers,  adults 
and  children.) 

LuBA. 
{seeing  her  father.)     Oh,  you  are  here!     I  beg 
your  pardon  I 

Nicholas. 
{rising.)     Never  mind. 

{Chain  goes  through  the  room  and 
out  at  the  other  door.) 

{alone.)  Vasily  Ermilovlch  has  returned  to  the 
Church.  Boris  is  ruined  through  me.  Luba  will 
marry.  Is  it  possible  that  I  am  mistaken  —  mis- 
taken in  believing  Thee?  Ah  no!  Father,  help 
me  I 


ACT   V 

Scene  I 

A  cell  in  the  Disciplinary  Battalion. —  Prison- 
ers sitting  or  lying  about. —  BORIS  reading  the 
Gospel  and  making  comments. 

A  man  who  has  been  flogged  led  out  from  this 
cell. — "  Oh,  why  Is  there  not  another  Pugachev 
to  avenge  us?  '* 

Princess  rushes  In. —  She  is  turned  out. — 
Struggle  with  an  officer. 

Prisoners  ordered  to  prayers. 

Boris  sent  to  the  dungeon,  and  sentenced  to  he 
flogged. 

Scene  II 

The  Czar's  Study. —  Cigarettes. —  Jokes. — 
Blandishments. —  Princess  is  announced. —  Or- 
dered to  wait. 

Cringing  Petitioners. 

Then  enter  Princess. —  Request  refused. 

{Exeunt.) 

Scene  III 

Marie  IvANOVNA. —  Speak  zvith  doctor  of  ill- 
ness of  Nicholas  Ivanovich. —  He  has  changed,  is 
very  mild,  but  dejected. 
203 


7 


204  THE  LIGHT  THAT 

Nicholas  Ivanovich  enters  with  doctor. — 
Treatment  is  futile. —  The  soul  is  more  important, 
but  I  consent  for  the  sake  of  my  wife.  {Enter 
ToNiA  with  Stephen,  Luba  with  Starkovsky.) 
Talk  of  the  land.  Nicholas  Ivanovich  tries 
not  to  offend  the  others.      {All  go.) 

Nicholas. 
{alone  with  Lisa.)  I  am  in  a  state  of  continual 
vacillation.  Have  I  done  right?  I  have 
achieved  nothing.  I  have  ruined  Boris.  Vasily 
Ermilovich  has  returned  to  the  Church.  I  am  an 
example  of  weakness.  I  see  God  did  not  want 
me  to  be  His  servant.  He  has  many  other  serv- 
ants. They  will  do  the  right  thing  without  me. 
To  see  that  clearly  is  to  obtain  peace  of  mind. 
(Lisa  goes. —  He  prays.) 

Princess  dashes  in  and  kills  him.- — All  rush 
in. —  He  says  he  did  it  himself  accidentally. — 
Writes  petition  to  the  Tsar. 

Enter  Vasily  Ermilovich  with  Dukhohors, 
—  Nicholas  Ivanovich  dies  rejoicing  that  the 
falsehoods  of  the  Church  are  broken  down. —  He 
realises  the  meaning  of  his  life. 

Alternative  for  Last  Scene. 

Letter  from  Boris  full  of  desperate  agitation. 
"  I  know  —  I  have  also  passed  through  that." 


SHINES  IN  DARKNESS  205 

Liberals.' — A  professor  from  the  height  of 
his  superiority  forgives  and  explains. 

A  Liberal  society  lady,  wearing  diamonds,  pres- 
ent.— 

"  They  are  unable  to  understand.  It  will  take 
a  hundred  years  for  them  to  do  so." 


FOURTEEN,  DAYHUSE 

RETURN  TOp^SK'^OM  WHICH  BORROWED 

::COAN ,  PEPJ. 

This  book  IS  due  on  the  last  oate  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 

Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


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